An Escape from Knowledge
by Luniousa 07
Summary: In the times of the war, Alana is wanted by Voldemort, because she possesses the thing most precious to him: knowledge. She knows everything that is going to happen- having read some books in her past. But, how does one hide from your own knowledge?
1. PrologueFrom Enemy to Source

An Escape from Knowledge

**A/N: Ok, so this is my first fanfic. I hope you really like it. I don't think this concept has ever been done before, but I have nothing to lose if it's not that good. Don't be afraid to point out the bad parts in the reviews, it even makes me a better writer. Thanks, and enjoy!**

_Prologue_

There she was, in the most terrifying situation she had ever been.

Alana found herself in the middle of a war, and not just any common one. No, Alana found herself in a wizarding war, being quite a skilled witch herself. Until a few days ago, she had been a student in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest school to learn the magical arts.

But now… now she was not fighting for other people, just to save herself. Not that she had another choice- she was being forced.

Alana was in hiding, because the Death Eaters wanted her, wanted something she possessed…

She wasn't the only one who had the knowledge they wanted. Yet, being the brave girl she was, she had lied to the Dark Lord's followers. She had said she was the only one who had what they wanted, the only one who knew that little secret.

Alana wanted to at least _try _to escape… But if it's what's in your head they're after, where is one supposed to hide it?

**So? Please review? This is going to have the first chapter in it too, but I have to wait a few more days to publish it, since it's not complete. Thanks!**

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**A/N: So, here goes the first chapter. This chapter is from Voldemort's POV (point of view, for those who don't know), so you guys get to know what's gonna happen before the actual victims do! This takes place in Malfoy Manor, after the Death Eater meeting in the first chapter of the seventh book. The characters are gonna be introduced in the second chapter, from their POV.**

**The story might get better as I write, so please don't stop looking out for the next chapter just because you don't like the first one. Ideas are welcome! Oh, and remember I'll include you if you want.**

Snape and Yaxley finally entered the room. _At last_, he thought. 

"Yaxley. Snape. You are very nearly late," said Voldemort in his high, cold voice. The Death Eater meeting started. After an hour or so, all his servants left the room with a small _pop_.

Voldemort thought. He felt pleased of the information he'd received, very pleased indeed. Yet, if he could only have more. If he could just _know_, know a bit more, anything…. everything. The connection between his and Potter's wands, the location of the Elder Wand, the truth about that night, when the Killing Curse had rebounded on him instead of killing one-year-old Harry Potter.

Voldemort paced the hallways of Malfoy Manor, thinking. The Malfoys were talking in low voices, all in different rooms, but he was indifferent to whether he intruded or not. About a quarter of an hour had passed, when Voldemort snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name. He took a few steps back, until he was standing at the closed door of what he knew to be Draco Malfoy's room.

"…might be useful for the Dark Lord, Draco," whispered the voice of Narcissa Malfoy. "But you must be sure, we won't want to bother him with useless rubbish. Then he'll certainly punish us. He's awfully furious with Potter and the Ministry already, and you know we're not at our best with him either."

"No!" Draco's voice trembled as he hissed at his mother. "I'm not taking the risk, not when I can decide, year I was forced to, he'd kill me if I didn't do my job. I'm not going to tell him something I'm not sure of. What if I'm wrong? What if he tortures me or something, like he does with the others? He kills his own followers, and I'm not gonna be next—"

"Stop!" sobbed Narcissa. "Don't—don't s-say that, please!" she whispered. When Draco did not respond, Voldemort turned the knob on the door. Narcissa gasped. "Hush," she told Draco.

Voldemort slowly opened the door, and the two people came into view: Narcissa, on thefloor, tearfully leaning on her son's bed, and Draco, sitting at its edge, a scared look on his face.

"My Lord!" Narcissa said, head bent, once she realized who had entered the room. Draco just looked more scared, but bent his head as well.

"Narcissa, Draco," he started. He felt angry at the mere possibility of his servants hiding something from him. "From what I've just heard, am I to understand you are keeping something from me?" said Voldemort, not caring at all for manners.

Instantly, both mother and son's faces fell, to reflect only fright. Voldemort blank expression turned to show what he felt inside—rage. "Well?"

"No, my Lord, never!" shrieked Narcissa.

"Then what is this that might be useful to me that you are so afraid to say?" he demanded. "As for you, Draco," he continued, turning his gaze on the boy, "obey every single command I give you, and you shall be rewarded. If not—"

"Please, my Lord! We would never keep a secret from our Master!" squealed Narcissa. "We shall tell you everything you ask us, my Lord!"

"Well, then, do. I ask you what you were talking about shortly before I entered the room. Draco?" Voldemort asked.

"I—It's-it's nothing, really—just some- some, um, classmates of mine—"

"Classmates?" Voldemort repeated.

"I mean—from before!" Draco continued. "They were two Gryffindors. Mudbloods. Filthy people, both of them. Potter's gang. It's just, they sort of, well—they always, uh, knew what was gonna happen. I don't know how, exactly, but I don't think it was Divination," he said, obviously avoiding Voldemort's eyes. Voldemort slowly cornered him. He was interested, and he hoped Draco had not finished. What if this led to the many answers he had been searching for?

"Tell me, Draco, how do you know it was not the use of divination that informed your friends the future? Or perhaps, even mere coincidence?" Voldemort said. Narcissa could be heard sobbing on the other side of the room. Draco was now against the wall, speaking fast, apparently bracing himself to get cursed by his father's wand, which Voldemort had just taken out of his robes.

"It's just the way they said it. When I insulted them for being stupid or something, they'd say 'You're not one to talk, Malfoy! You can't even handle a simple hippogriff right!' And that happened about two weeks later! And they were the best at everything, even better then Granger! Not things like that only, they knew Potter had gone to get that Stone, and what it did and everything! And the Chamber of Secrets! They knew who was going to be taken to the Chamber, the beast, and about Lockhart being a fraud! Oh, and they believed Black was innocent before Potter, Granger and Weasley!"

"More, Draco, I need to know everything!" said Voldemort, hungry for yet more.

"I—no, no, please, I— don't''

"Is that it, Draco?"

"No—Oh, they knew exactly what had happened during the World Cup, the scores and everything, and they couldn't get tickets! I overheard them on the train. They seemed worried all fourth year that… as if they knew you would come back. And Sages—the girl-''

"A _girl_?"

"Yes, Granger's friend—she was sort of _sobbing _before Potter went into the maze, and the other one, Almery, the boy, he was also very concerned! And—and after that- the third task, I mean—they looked shaken, they believed Potter, they never liked Moody in the first place! They acted like they knew he was a Death Eater, I think they did! Then on—on fifth year, they knew Umbridge was coming before we got to school, they _guessed _what had gone on in Potter's hearing, and they we're the only ones who believed Potter about you coming back! They knew about the dementor attack, I heard Weasley asking how they knew. All year they knew Umbridge's upcoming move: every single rule, event… everything, I tell you! And they were worried about Potter, checked on him all the time… Master!" he added quickly.

Voldemort froze dead. "Tell me, Draco, did those… _acquaintances _of yours ever know, _guess_ or suspect anything, perhaps, about some curious dreams Potter had been having?"

"Um…."

Narcissa shook her head violently when her son threw her a look of fear, gesturing for her to do something. He obviously wanted saving.

"Draco?" Voldemort hissed. He dived towards the boy, pressing his white hand around Draco's neck, pushing him against the wall. Voldemort dug his wand under his servant's chin.

Draco's face looked, more than doubtful, begging. His lips were closed tight, there was a line between his eyes, his head was shaking twice as much as his mother's, and his whole body trembled. He gasped for breath. The look on Draco's face begged not to be tortured for his lack of information.

"No? Well, I did not want to come to this, Draco, but if you just won't say—" he raised his wand, "—I'll just have to be a bit… persuasive."

Just when Voldemort was beginning to articulate the first syllable of the spell, Narcissa jumped from the edge of Draco's bed and bellowed,

"MY LORD, PLEASE, DON'T! NO!" A simple blasting curse pushed Narcissa back, so hitting the opposite wall. Draco gasped, but turned to his master once more, without further attention to his mother.

"I'm not sure whether they knew that he was being possessed—yes, wait, they did, Master, they did! They were so stupid to let something slip, they both looked terrified when they did. Idiots!" Draco said with a triumphant look on his face. "It was Parkinson who heard it, when she told me I started to suspect them most then. Apparently Almery said 'Harry, I know you're not going to learn Occlumency, and I'm not trying to tell you off like Hermione,'—Granger," he said with a high voice. 'I'm just saying since it's obviously been crossed off the list, you really have to be careful. If You—Know—Who's possessing you, he could make you do things you don't—' And then he stopped, Parkinson said, because Sages shook his shoulder very badly and they went away whispering, looking scared. They knew Black would die as well, they didn't take it as hard. They were there at the Department of Mysteries."

Voldemort repeated Draco's voice in his head, analyzing them as he went. These were sources he needed now, as soon as possible… Yet he was not done.

"What about last year, Draco? Did they-?"

"They definitely knew. They told Dumbledore they knew, I think. They went to his office all of the nights that year, I watched them. I think they showed Dumbledore what they knew; they knew he was going to die. I had Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Blaze and Zabini eavesdrop on them. They wrote down the conversations, everything they saw. Of course, once they got to Gryffindor Tower it was impossible, one needs the pass—"

"Where are those conversations? Where did you keep them?" Voldemort spat.

"Here, in my room! There in that drawer!" Draco exclaimed, pointing at a black cabinet on his right. The little calmness he had gained, as though getting used to interrogation, had been taken away with

Voldemort's question. A single wave of Lucius Malfoy's wand in the hands of his master was enough for the papers exit the drawer and land on Draco's bed.

"I—" started Draco.

"I shall read them later. Now, I require you tell me exactly who they are," said Voldemort slowly.

"Um—Okay, first Almery. Well, he's my age, my y-year. His name's Evan Almery. He always fights physically as well as with magic, with Muggle weapons such as swords. Gryffindor, the same gang as Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Lovegood, Weasley and Sages. Dumbledore's Army in fifth year. Very close to Black. Then the girl's pretty much the same story. Also a Gryffindor, same friends… Sort of a tomboy, really. Alana Sages. Both claim to be pure-bloods, though blood traitors of course, and disgrace the name of the wizarding world," Draco finished, a bit proud.

Voldemort took his eyes away from Draco's, but not loosening the grip on his throat. Finally, he decided on his next words: "Draco, you will help me find the two people you speak of, starting now. Should you refuse to answer my questions—"

"I swear I won't, my Lord," Draco croaked, for Voldemort had tightened his hand around Draco's neck.

"Good… You have proved yourself useful at last, Draco… Now, be gone, and do not return until you can do it again!" Voldemort commanded. He aggressively released Draco, knocking sideways into his bed. Coughing nonstop, Draco got up and, with a last glance at his mother's unconscious body, ran from the room.

Voldemort waited, and took a deep breath. "_Not yet_," he told the anxious Nagini, who had been waiting patiently beside Narcissa, and now threatened to sink her fangs into her victim's skin. Voldemort then grasped his snake, and with a swish of his cloak, was lost from view.


	2. No Longer a Daydream

AEK 2

Alana and Ethan lay down in the old Blue Wood Valley neighborhood. They rested under their second-favorite tree, near the rusty swings. To their left, the small guard house stood, as same as always, currently holding Officer O' Riley. Thirteen-year-old Richard, Ethan's little brother, still visited him like when he was six. Some things never change.

Alana relived all of the memories in her mind. When she had moved here at the age of six, become Ethan's friend, discovering the world of Harry Potter. Reading the books, dreaming of being a witch, playing for three years nonstop with Ethan on this very same park, perhaps on this very date, seven years ago. Making up characters and spells with Ethan, pretending they were wizards and going on fantastic adventures. And, finally, receiving the Hogwarts letter a few meters away from here in house number twenty-five, celebrating with Ethan, who'd been emerging with the same news from house thirty-eight.

"You remember when we used to play in this park?" Ethan asked beside her. Apparently, he had been thinking the same thing.

"Yes," Alana responded. "I wished we'd known we were really wizards at the time."

"Aw, yeah. I would have loved to give a special _Slugus Eructo_ to Dan and Dave Rigmount," Ethan said, referring to the two brothers, and neighborhood president's grandsons, they had nicknamed "The Devil Twins". Their name said everything there was to say about them.

After a while, Alana broke the silence. "Ethan?"

"Yeeesss?"

"Do you think we'll… be okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just, we've read the books. We know everything that's going to happen. But we're not originally part of the story. What if we change it? We don't know what will happen to us… just to the others," said Alana, sitting up.

"So?" Ethan said coolly.

"Well... We don't know if we'll... survive," said Alana quietly. Ethan seemed to consider this for a while. He tried to seem relaxed, but Alana had known him for too long. She knew Ethan had just been hit by terror.

"I-I guess we're g-going to be- to be, um- okay," he stuttered. "We kn-know when it's dangerous and where, and we're really ad-advanced in m-magic," he said. Ethan's eyes seemed to be locked on a distant point away from Alana. He was in shock, having obviously missed the fact Alana had just pointed out for six years. Alana thought about putting her arm around Ethan for a moment to calm him down, but something told her not to.

"We are coming back from that war," Alana said, placing her arm on Ethan's shoulders. "You're right, we are really well prepared, there's no need to worry." She was seriously starting to regret her words.

"Y-yes there- there is. I mean-"

"We know more spells than half the Aurors," Alana interrupted again, trying to keep Ethan from saying the words she dreaded: "_What if we die?" "_Plus our sword and knife and spear training. We're both great at magic. But we both know I'm still better than you," she added teasingly. Ethan smiled and turned to her. The desired effect.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" said Ethan in his most movie-like voice and standing up.

"Perhaps it is," Alana imitated Ethan's tone and stood up also.

"Shall we duel?" said Ethan, slightly bowing.

"Wait," said Alana in her normal voice. "Shouldn't we use different spells? I mean, fake ones, like the ones we made up."

"Maybe..." Ethan replied. "You mean because of the whole under-age thing?"

"Yeah. Only three more days of that for me," Alana reminded him happily. She laughed when Ethan's face turned into pure jealousy.

"Anyway, I think Voldemort's got other things to worry about besides hosting a hearing for underage wizardry," Ethan said casually. Having a the most powerful Dark wizard in the world secretly controlling your government was not a strange thing for them.

They each grabbed a stick from the ground like when they were ten, taking great care in the fragility and length of each. They raced to the old tennis court with its missing net and battered basketball hoop, which were both richer in age than them. Alana positioned herself, tied back her hair with the hairband that lived around her wrist, and aimed her stick directly at Ethan's chest. They both fired at the same time.

"NITEO!"

"DARKINOX!"

Amazingly, a what seemed to be a tiny light erupted from Alana's branch, and a small shadow beam from Ethan's. They both stared at their sticks in awe, then at each other. They laughed and celebrated together.

But the celebration of having done wandless magic did not last long, for that's when Ethan noticed the cloaked figures moving slowly towards them. Alana's heart sank as their smiles faded from their faces. Ethan appeared to be Petrified for a split second, but then started to rush toward the Death Eaters.

"Ethan!" screamed Alana. She thought it was a bit stupid to run right into your predator's hands, then realized that was not Ethan's plan. He was going into Officer O' Riley's compartment, and came out muttering something and waving his wand. He was hiding behind a bush, unseen to anyone but her. Finding that she was doing nothing to help, she sprinted cautiously to Ethan's hiding spot. She caught the words Ethan was mumbling. "_Protego Totalum… Salvio Hexia… Muffilato…" _

Of course. The spells the trio would use in a few months. Alana quickly started to help. Now the Death Eaters would not be able to hear, see or feel them. Yet, she knew she and Ethan were not casting these spells to protect themselves. They were for their parents, Rich, Nigel (Alana's younger brother), and everyone in Blue Woods Valley. It was time to turn to the questions now.

"How'd they find us?" Alana whispered frantically. She wanted to take the caution even if they could not hear them.

"I'm not sure," said Ethan. "Either Legilimancy or… someone told them. But who?"

"We've never told anyone," Alana noted.

The Death Eaters could not break their protective charms. But they had something bigger and stronger.

"We know you're there, idiots!" said a rough voice. "Do you think we'll buy that a whole neighborhood disappeared right before our eyes? Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

"We've got a surprise for you!" said a female voice. "We brought a friend from school!"

At these words, Alana and Ethan exchanged worried glances. They peeked out from their bush, only to see a quartet of Death Eaters holding a gagged, blindfolded figure with its hand tied over its back, struggling against them. Before they could take in any other characteristics of its face, a sack had been placed over its head, a wand poking its neck. Two more Death Eaters stood around the operation. After giving their victim a good shake, it remained still.

"Either come out, or watch your little friend die!" said another voice, a bit more insane than the last.

Who was it? A Weasley? Luna? Hermione? Neville? Alana grabbed Ethan by the elbow. "Should we? I couldn't tell who it was," she said desperately.

"Me neither. We should," said Ethan, also looking hesitant. With a more determined look, he added, "But I'll do it alone."

"Oh, no, you are not starting this again," said Alana, emerging from the bush. Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Here's the plan. We go out without taking off the enchantments, okay?"

"Fine," Ethan responded. "Wait… the spells didn't cover the park."

"There's no one there except the Death Eaters now," said Alana. "We go there to see who it is they've got, save him or her, then run out of the village and into the woods," she proposed.

With one last look at each other, they crossed to the Death Eater's sight. They all pointed their wands at them and Disarmed them at once. They raised their hands above their skulls. "Who've you got?" Alana asked loudly.

The masked Death Eater that was holding their prisoner laughed. She spoke with the female voice they had heard earlier. "Do you think we'll show you know? No, we came for more than just seeing you. We did not come for such a waste of time, brainless."

"What do you want with us, then?" said Ethan.

"For you to answer a few questions," said a slow, persuasive voice behind them. They both jumped at the shrilling sound of such a familiar voice. There was no need to ask, since it was clear the man behind that mask was Lucius Malfoy.

"Malfoy… what is this? You put them up to this, didn't you?" Ethan said, raising his voice.

Malfoy walked into view, removing his mask. "No, not exactly… but I am leading the operation, yes," he said. "And as for what it is, it is what I said. A few questions need to be answered, and we believe you've got them. Simply answer them, or—" He seemed not to be able to say the sentence.

"Or we kill your friend, here and now," said the female.

Alana thought for a moment. She went over an escape plan in her head, but she knew she was not capable of doing it. The Dark Lord had gotten their weakness.

"Alright, then," she said to Malfoy. "Ask me. But don't do anything to him," she added, nudging her chin towards the covered person the Death Eaters were holding.

"Very well, then… Is it true that you have information of the future?" said Malfoy. They had not gone around the bush. Straight to the point. Alana looked at Ethan, and saw that, like her, he was trying to look confused, yet a shadow of fear covered his face… a shadow only Alana could identify.

"What—What do you mean the fut-?"

"We've got sources. We know you're lying. You've got information our master needs, and we're not leaving until we get it," said the rough voice.

"We don't—" started Ethan.

That's when the ropes tied them up. They tried to get sticks from the ground to attempt wandless magic, but there were none. Then the supposed prisoner bait was released, and he took his sack, blindfold and gag of, revealing the face of Draco Malfoy. He bent over Alana and Ethan and whispered, "That's right, a trick. There's no friend for you here. And I was the source. You tell them what they need, or I'll kill you with my bare hands before he kills me." He kicked their faces and left with his father. And that's when they lifted Ethan against a tree and pressed the knife to his throat.


	3. Captured Behind Bars

**Sorry for taking so long to update! I've been busy lately, but I'll try to update sooner. I hope you like this chapter… Please READ AND REVIEW! **

"ETHAN!"

The yell that escaped her lips was so great she thought her voice would have drowned with it. Alana tried to take off her bonds and save Ethan, but it was useless. She had just gone from the tough girl who thought she could conquer Death Eaters to being on the verge of tears on the ground.

Ethan was gasping for breath with the blade to his neck. With a wave of the Death Eater who was holding his wand, the ropes arranged themselves around all of his body bellow the neck to tie Ethan to the tree, the knife still resting on his skin.

"Now, could YOU tell us something, sweetheart?" said the man holding Ethan. As he removed his mask, Alana saw that he knew him: Avery.

"G-go on, then. Ask a-away," Alana replied. "But don't touch him!" she said. Suddenly, she took in part of the situation. "Wait," she said. "You can't kill him if you think we're BOTH the source of information."

"So you admit you do have a gift of knowing the future?" asked Malfoy.

"No, but-"

"We only need the information, we don't care about the sources. If you have the same knowledge he does, we kill him, because we only need one. Now, if he knows more-"

The speaker, the female, bent over Alana with a knife and traced the outline of her throat. She removed her mask, and Alana gasped. How could she have not recognized the voice?

"You're the one to go," whispered Bellatrix Lestrange in her ear.

Alana was glad she did not have a gag, or she would have exploded for containing the urge of spitting a swear in Bellatrix's face. Since she did not have a gag on, though, she did. And got a slap in the face.

"Let me up," Alana said to nobody in particular. She felt the ropes leave her body, giving her the freedom to breathe normally. Then a couple of hands lifted her up aggressively and held on to her.

"Alana, no! Don't say you have things you don't for-"

PLUNK. Ethan unconscious. He had tried to scream with the little voice left in him, and Avery cut him off by Stunning him. For some reason, this struck Alana as too much. If she had her wand, she might have killed Avery.

"Now, then..." began Malfoy again. "You can see we would kill somebody you care about, so speak. You know the future. How? Divination? Someone like old Trelawney? Visions? A spell? A potion?"

"None," said Alana. "Neither any you say. I don't know what information you're talking about," she said innocently.

"Sages, you know what we're talking about," said Draco Malfoy. "Go on. Go on and tell them about the Stone. About the Chamber. You knew what the Stone did. What the Chamber held. Tell them how you knew and what it was."

"I knew about the Stone just like everyone else. Everybody found out after Harry fought-" Alana said.

"You knew before everyone else," Draco continued.

"No, I- We- In the Chamber... I ran into Harry and Ron after they saw the message on the wall, so I was with them when they figured out the monster. I- I wanted to go in to save Ginny with them, but they wouldn't let me. That's how I knew. I told Ethan later." Okay, a pretty credible story. Of course, what really happened was, they knew what the monster was, what could happen to Muggle-borns and who would be taken into the Chamber years before that day. They'd sneaked out to see the writing on the wall, though.

"What about Black? You thought he was inno-" Draco began again.

"Are you really going to put me through all our school years?" Alana interrupted him. "Because I could just give you a quick summary. The teachers, the classes-"

"Shut up!" spat Malfoy. So much for an attempt of funniness.

The Death Eaters whispered among themselves. Three remained out of the conversation: Draco Malfoy, who was just glaring at Alana with hatred, and the two holding her.

"So that's your story? You're just a regular pure-blood disgracing the name of magic? Just another blood-traitor, nothing special?" said a voice Alana knew to be Antonin Dolohov's.

"Yeah, a proud blood-traitor. Nothing else. Just like him," she added, pointing towards Ethan.

Her words seemed to crack Lucius Malfoy. He in his son's direction and grabbed the neck of his vest. "I hope we can get it out of them there, or you will have finally destined us to our doom at the Dark Lord's hands," he said roughly in his face.

"What do you mean 'there'?" Nobody answered Alana's question.

In this moment of being ignored, Alana took in everything slowly. Before she had anything cleared out in her mind, though, she found the men holding her were dragging her towards the tree Ethan's body was tied to. They held the knife to his throat again.

"You know what we need. Deny it and we slit it."

"What if the truth is we don't know?" said Alana defiantly.

"Then-" the man started.

"Rowle, don't! There's been a change of plans!" said Malfoy.

Change of plans? What were they going to do with her? Alana suddenly had an idea. It might not work, and it was riskier for her, but it was worth a try.

"I think I know what you people are looking for," she said, gulping. "Ethan does not know even what it is. You want information. He didn't understand because he didn't know what information it was. I know what it is, but I don't have it. Don't you think I'd have stopped all the deaths if I'd known the future?" They had talked about it before school. No matter the temptation, no changing the story. Every death had a meaning and was necessary. But the Death Eaters would have underestimated them, right?

"So what you're saying is, YOU have the information and he doesn't?" Bellatrix said in disbelief.

"No, I-" Alana could not finish. Draco had whispered something in his aunt's ear, which made her smile wickedly.

"NOW!" she bellowed.

Had that been what the Death Eaters had planned? Because next thing she knew, Alana had her hands tied up behind her back and was being pushed in a violent manner. They were pulling her away from the neighborhood. Away from Nigel, from her parents, from the security of Officer O' Riley. Away from her friends, even from the annoying elderly gossipers... Away from Ethan.

Ethan was still Stunned and held to the tree by bonds. As Alana was dragged away, she let out some typical "Let go of me!"'s, and "Stop it!"'s, and "I swear I don't know anything!"'s, but it was useless. She caught one last glance at Ethan and, deciding she could do nothing else for him, faced forward and lifted her chin.

Alana knew the direction the Death Eaters were taking by heart: They were headed for the woods. As they entered the soil-and-trees-only area, they started to speed up. Once at the heart of the forest, someone punched Alana from the back, knocking her forward. Not having her hands available to break her fall, she slumped headfirst into the ground, receiving a mouthful of dirt and serious pain in her nose. The Death Eaters roared with laughter before each holding a section of Alana's arms. Unexpectedly, Alana felt as though she was being sucked through a rubber tube. She could not breathe, and the laughter of her captivators filled her head. She thought she might go mad.

Finally, the Apparation ended. A blindfold was put over Alana's eyes, yet her mouth never seemed to be covered. Perhaps they prepared for her to speak at any moment.

Alana was half-dragged, half-pushed towards she did not know where. When they stopped, she heard Bellatrix's voice beside her saying, "This is her. We've only brought this one; the other one didn't seem to know anything. Did he, pretty?" She gave Alana a hard pinch.

There was a slight gasp, and then the noise of a rusty gate opening. Once more, several people started pushing Alana and laughing insults at her.

There was an awful lot of murmuring, and Alana continued to be led, apparently, faster every second. The cold wind disappeared, replaced by the warmth of a house, but Alana was in a situation that made it hard to feel comfortable. Wherever they were, it was obvious, telling by the noise, that it was crowded.

Once or twice she would be smashed against what Alana supposed was furniture, whether on purpose or by accident she did not know. After the third smash there was a sigh and they stopped.

"What do we do with her?" said a voice over the whispers. "Try again now, or-?"

"Down. We must call—" The interrupter paused. "—_him_ first."

Even though they had tried to hide it, Alana knew at once who it was they had to call: Voldemort, to inform him of her capture.

The whispers started again, some sounding like protests, some like suggestions, and some like assent. Once more, Alana was pulled and pushed. Suddenly, she was stopped.

"Come on, down, down, down! Go on!" said several voices. As she went forward, she found she was descending a flight of stairs. She went as fast as she could, tripping a bit all the while; of course, it was hard when her sight had been completely blocked. As always, the Death Eaters' laughter flooded her ears as she rolled down the stairs uncontrollably. She hit her head, hard. Since her nose felt warm and wet, and a weird smell filled her nostrils, she guessed she was bleeding.

"Come on, come on, we ain't got all day for you!"

The hands, feeling filthy and rough, picked Alana up. The murmuring was very faint now, and it eventually died out. Alana was directed forward and along several twists. Where the hell she was, she didn't have a clue, but it was definitely enormous. They finally came to a stop, and the cling of metal could be heard. Then there was the sound of a gate in a badly need for oil, and the hands released her arms. But they returned.

At least half a dozen pairs of hands came hitting Alana on her back at once, with such force that she felt herself fly. Her forehead collided with what had to be cement, and then the rest of her body collapsed onto the floor. Her head started throbbing, but curiosity beat pain his time. Desperate to know her location, Alana ripped the blindfold that covered her eyes. Her heart sank. She stretched her arms, and the tips of her fingers touched the walls. She looked up in exasperation, only to see the laughing face of Antonin Dolohov closing the bars in front of her. Behind him, five of his companions laughed with him before leaving Alana in the minuscule cell, on her knees and holding on to the bars. She fell back, her stomach seeming to have turned over. She looked into Dolohov's eyes as he closed the cell with a spell, locking her out of her freedom, and into the cellar of Malfoy Manor.


	4. Captured in Thoughts

**Okay… here's chapter four! I hope you like it. It's kind of short, but it just didn't fit to add anything else. I mean, I like where it ends, so I'll start from there in the next chapter. Again, read and review, please.**

**So, anyway, this chapter is basically everything Alana is going through in her mind, which is A LOT. Enjoy!**

Alana thought. A few tears adorned her cheeks. Now, here in private, was the time to cry. Nobody else would see her. Not because she was afraid they would make fun of her, but because of her dignity. Yes... That was her key. Dignity.

Alana knew what was next. They would ask her again for information. Then there was the part to worry about...

Torture.

She had read the Cruciatus Curse. She had felt it through Harry. But now it was her turn. Now she must face the burn in her bones and brain that the books so delicately described, making the reader almost feel it him or herself. She had the slightest hope that it might be a bit less bad for her, since she knew what was coming. Yet she had a feeling it was not going to be of much help.

The only bright side of being trapped in this cell was nobody was here. Alana had privacy to decide her next move with caution.

Okay, she thought. When they ask me, I say no. When they torture me, I resist. When they-

What else could they do? Alana almost fainted as the list hit her. More bait. Nigel. Her parents. Ethan's family. Her friends from school. Maybe they would go back to the tree and get Ethan. Now that she thought about it, Luna would be here after the Christmas holidays. Would Alana still be here by then, too?

Also... How could she have not seen it before? They did not need to wait for Alana to give in answers. Pointing his wand at her skull and saying the single word "_Legilimens_," Voldemort could open Alana's mind like a Christmas present, therefore see everything inside of it.

Perhaps it was better reaching the point where they killed her. _Let them kill me. It will be better for everyone. In don't suffer, and they can't get information from me._ Wait.

And this time, Alana did fall to her knees and press her hands to her mouth in the little cell.

They would not kill her. They would never stop. They would try and get the knowledge their master so desperately wanted. Alana would be tortured until she gave in what they wanted. She would not be allowed the privilege of death.

Alana remembered Dumbledore's words: "_Oh no, I believe there are things much worse than death_." She agreed. And now she was stuck in one of them.

An awful possibility struck Alana like lighting. What if she could not handle it? What if she was too weak? What if... what if she told them what she knew?

Alana shivered even though it was hot. She knew what she must do. If the Death Eaters would not kill her, and she had already agreed it was better for everyone if she was dead, there was only one more option.

No. Suicide was not an option.

Something hit her. So what if she gave the Death Eaters information? Then the book would have a sad ending where Voldemort finds out how to kill Harry and does. Then he becomes ruler of the world. The end. Plus, Alana and her family would not be harmed.

No. Harry was not just a character in her favorite book anymore. Neither was Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Lavender, Dean, Ginny, the other Weasleys, Professor McGonagall, Snape or anyone else from the books. They were now real people, real. They were a part of her life, as much as Ethan or Nigel or her parents. Would she give her little brother away to the bad guys to save herself? No. Would she turn Ethan in to fill her own place in this situation? No. Would she turn in her parents while they hid to spare herself? No. These people were real and a part of her now. Alana cursed herself for even thinking with such selfishness.

Now she knew for sure what she would do. She knew it was the right thing to do. Alana would go in with dignity into whatever awaited. She would resist the spells and any other means the used against her. And most of all, she would not beg. Not for mercy, not for another chance to explain, not for- no matter how much she wanted it at the moment- Alana would not beg for death. Alana would keep her pride and dignity, if necessary, to her death.

She stood up in the tiny cell, a serious look on her face. She tied her hair back and wiped the tears of her face, leaving no trail. Alana reminded herself of another girl, a character in one of the books she had read. That girl had started a rebellion against the Capitol, without really wanting to. But then she joined in, and made them think she did not care about the made and suffering they used against her. That girl had become a warrior, and the icon of the war. She had been ready to die at any moment and fought. Alana suddenly realized she was feeling exactly the same things as that girl: the fear for others, the not caring for her death, even the considering of taking their own lives away. Alana now became that girl, even though it was only a character in a story.

Then again, Alana remembered, was far as she knew, so was she. So there might be two fans of those books living the story with that girl right now.

Motivated by herself, some strange urge inside her made words come out of her mouth at the moment. Words that she regretted the instant they entered her brain.

"If you're interrogating me, do it now!"

Alana momentarily lost her determination as Dolohov, who she guessed was in charge of her, came towards her cell. She recovered quickly, though, so the Death Eater did not reach to see Alana's preoccupation.

"Did I hear correctly? The lady is prepared to speak at last?" Dolohov said mockingly. Or do you need to see your clueless boyfriend killed, for a little push first?"

"Just shut up and get me out. And no, it's not a trick," Alana added. Because it was not. Because she had been too stupid to work one out.

"Watch it, pretty," said Dolohov seriously. As he clicked the key on the cellar door, he yelled something Alana could not quite catch. Instantly, two men, one being Rowle, marched downstairs and into the cellar.

"Please escort our little guest upstairs. Apparently, she is ready to tell us what she knows," said Dolohov in that slow, persuasive, Lucius Malfoy-ish voice Death Eaters used. The trio of men smiled evilly at each other and reached for Alana's arms.

"I have legs, if you haven't noticed," said Alana sharply. "I'm much more than capable of climbing a flight of stairs by myself. After all, I'm seventeen. And no, I won't _watch it_." She straightened up and ascended the steps.

Exiting upstairs by herself felt better than being dragged, but Alana doubted whether it had been a good idea once she had fallen into sight. Boom. Instant commotion.

"She's escaped!"

"Get 'er!"

"She broke out!"

"Seize the girl!"

Spells cast at Alana, hands reaching out to her and the yells to each other was all she could take in from the Death Eaters' reactions.

"We got her, we got her!" screamed Rowle, emerging from the cellar. "The girl just wanted to show some independence, ain't that correct?" he said, pushing Alana. "Let 'er use it while she has some left…" Chuckles replaced the clamor.

"She is ready to speak," said the man that had come with Rowle.

"Then, by all means, sit down," growled a short Death Eater, pointing to a chair in the middle of the room. Looking around, Alana could identify it as a simple sitting room. Hermione, her friend, would be tortured right here in a few months' time…

Alana obeyed and sat down, the look on her face as hard as stone. The same questions were asked. The same response spat back every time.

"_How_ _do you know… how did you know the future… where did you learn….?_"

"_I_ _don't know… it was a coincidence… no, he doesn't know anything either!_"

After twenty minutes, Alana dared to describe the situation as boring. But it didn't last long.

"I told you, I don't know anything."

"Really? Because I can see otherwise," said a high, cold voice from the hall. Clutching his wand, half-concealed in the shadows… Into view came the dark figure of Lord Voldemort.


	5. An Attempt at Rescue

**Okay guys, this is the fifth chapter. It's from Ethan's POV, and a new character is introduced, which I also made up. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I've been crazy busy, and I've barely any time to write. So, please review—they make my day! If you don't… I'll Imperio you. Kidding!**

**Seriously, review. Enjoy!**

Ethan's eyes flashed open. He felt momentarily disoriented and slowly looked around.

Everything that had happened came back to him at the speed of a snail, but, at the end, he remembered, and so being able to explain to himself why he was tied to a tree. Just as he was wondering how to escape the bonds, he became fully alert, and the last puzzle piece in his mind took its place. Not seeing Alana, he grew more anxious, finally calling out: "Alana? Alana! ALANA?"

Gasping, he managed to take his pocket knife out, cutting the thick rope as fast as he could, his heart beating out of his chest. The moment he was free, he started running about, calling out for Alana. No, the Death Eaters had not killed her. She had to be here. Here, somewhere. Not in the neighborhood, of course, for the enchantments she and Ethan had produced would not have allowed her to do so. They had not taken her…

Ethan was forced to accept the truth after half an hour's search. A new worry rose in him: his wand was nowhere in sight. Only one thing was left to do know, and that was to find Alana, somehow. Ethan started to think about the situation carefully, trying to concentrate. However, he was interrupted by footsteps coming his way. Ethan jumped to his feet, hope that the figure of his friend would appear in front of him flickering inside him. But it was not Alana.

From behind the trees and bushes emerged one of Ethan's and Alana's closest neighborhood friends, Conner. He had been a friend since they could remember, always hanging in the streets with them. He was a Muggle, so he thought Alana and Ethan attended Tenebrae Boarding School for Advanced Pupils in London.

"Ethan?" he said. "What are you doing here alone, mate?"

"I—I'm looking for Alana," Ethan replied. "I haven't—seen her in a while," he said rapidly.

"But I saw you guys at the park," said Conner slowly. "By the way, you left this there." He handed Ethan the book that had _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ written on the cover, with Ethan's full name below.

"Thanks," Ethan said.

"So…" said Conner. "Maybe Alana's away with her parents or something."

"No," said Ethan. "She was with me a few hours ago. Conner, listen, I'm going to have to leave soon. When my parents ask, tell them that I've gone for a while to—"

"Wait, where are you going?" said Conner.

Ethan, who had been turning to leave, froze. He sighed, and said, "I was with Alana and some people came and… I think she might be in trouble."

Conner turned as pale as snow. "What happened?" he said rapidly.

"They—um—knocked me out and, when I woke up, she wasn't there anymore," Ethan said.

Conner had always been like a brother to Ethan and Alana, so Ethan understood perfectly that he began to jump and become very agitated and scared.

"I'm going to find her know, I think I know where she might be," Ethan said rapidly, starting to turn away. This was actually true, for, in the little thinking time he had had before Conner appeared, he had figured out that the Death Eaters would take her to Malfoy Manor. It was the most reasonable answer.

"Wait!" Conner stopped him. "I'm coming with you!"

"Conner, no, it's too—" began Ethan.

"—dangerous?" said Conner. "I care about her just as much as you do. I'm coming no matter what you say."

Ethan switched places with Conner in his mind. True, he would want to go, too. Besides, Conner's reaction had surprised him. In fact, it was getting worse.

"Sure, but—"

"How are getting there?" Conner demanded. How _were_ they getting there? Ethan had no idea.

"I don't know. I guess we'll—" What? Apparation and Floo Powder were detectable; besides, Ethan had a Muggle with him. Even if he was a wizard and knew, there were no magical transportations at hand. Ethan's broom was broken beyond repair thanks to Richard attempting to make a loop while mounting it, no threstals were near, Hagrid and his motorcycle were probably all the way at Hogwarts. This left only one option: The old Muggle way.

Both boys were trying to figure it out, Ethan pacing around, Conner throwing sticks at the trees in thought, when they realized the answer was right in front of their noses. They lifted their heads, and the life-long friends did not need to speak to know that the other was thinking the same thing. They knew what they had to do. Conner was the first to speak. "So how are we getting to the pier?"

Of course! Conner was the proud owner of a motor boat, and Ethan had a license to drive it, apart from countless hours of practice.

Ethan, who was about to talk, stopped dead. The stick that was losing itself from Conner's grip was his wand. He dived and caught it, just as its tip was going to collide with the ground.

"What are you-?" started Conner.

"Forget it," said Ethan, pocketing his wand. "Wait. We need to hurry up, we can't just walk all the way to the pier!"

Fantastic. Conner suddenly said something that could not have been more convenient:

"Oh, wait!" Conner replied. "Right over there, next to those trees! Mike and I left them there yesterday, it's why I was out here in the first place. I came to get them." With no hesitation, Ethan ran and, finding it, mounted a bike. Conner followed and took the second bike he and his brother had left lying there.

And so they headed off to the pier, riding faster than the wind that gave them all their impulse. They tried to ignore the pain that grew bigger and bigger in their chests, the fatigue that threatened to stop them, the tempting banks, water fountains and green grass, which invited them to rest or take a nap above it. Every time a temptation presented itself, or the pain shot through him, Ethan thought of Alana, who was sure to be suffering over a thousand times what he was. Each time the thought found its way into Ethan's mind, he forced himself to pedal faster, and to imagine that the pier was very close, only to convince himself to move. Conner, who he had thought would be an extra weight to carry, was apparently thinking something similar, because he, too, was riding as if an invisible motor was pushing him from the back of his bicycle.

At last, they got to the pier, and threw their bikes to the ground without bothering to chain them in. They ran along the line of boats, looking from side to side.

"Which is yours?" demanded Ethan, worried, but still jogging.

"Right down here, I think," answered Conner, pointing forward. "This one right here! This is it, come on!"

Ethan jumped in on the boat, and glanced at the motors for a moment before saying, "It's a great one! Would call it a ship if it were just a bit bigger!"

He turned on the motors, and started the boat which, he now saw, was called the _Nightrider_. He liked the fact that the stirrer was out on the top deck, but had a glass wall that covered him from the wind, and went up to his nose. The top deck was pretty plain and exposed, except for a few seats.

"This is the part you'll like best," said Conner. He led him to what seemed to see a mini storage closet, but happened to be a little door, which opened to a flight of stairs that looked eternal. Ethan stepped forward without hesitation, and descended, to his enormous surprise, into a full kitchen, with a sofa and a window right above it, which opened out to the top deck.

"That's not half," said Conner proudly. "I'd give you a look around, but you've—"

"—got to stir the boat," finished Ethan for him. He went upstairs and did so for half an hour, while Conner remained downstairs, coming up to check occasionally.

All the while, Ethan held the book, trying to figure out where he was to go. The book never said exactly where the manor was located, but Ethan tried to figure it out by the various descriptions. Once, on one of his journeys to the top deck, Conner took notice of the book next to Ethan, and grabbed it, saying, "I know you're a big fan. I never did read it... do you think I should? They say it's really good— Mind if I take a peak?" And, before Ethan could stop him, Conner opened the book, well away from the marked page, and read.

"Hey, this bad guy's really awful, isn't it?" he said suddenly.

"You've no idea," Ethan muttered.

"I mean, all those people even afraid to say Vol—"

"CONNER, WAIT!"

"—demort! Wait for what?" he asked, looking suddenly alarmed and confused.

It was too late. The bloody name was Tabooed, and there was nothing they could do about it. Sure enough, a black boat with three people on it appeared out of thin air right behind them and started, full speed, towards them.

"Conner, get down to the kitchen and strap yourself in!" Ethan yelled.

"What's going on?" demanded Conner.

"JUST DO IT, AND HANG ON!" Ethan commanded.

Confirming his suspicions, a Stunning Curse missed him by two inches, just as Conner had disappeared under the door.

"Snatchers!" he gasped. Immediately, he shouted back, "_Expulso_!" with his wand out.

"_Impedimenta_!" The Snatcher missed.

"_Aguamenti_!" The ocean's water rose, and banged against the Snatcher's boat. Ethan turned aggressively, and almost fell. He kept spitting out spells to his attackers, trying to ignore Conner's yells from below. He was now soaking wet from the water that embraced him whole every time he turned.

Ethan gasped for air as a gigantic wave followed the cry of "_Aguamenti Maxima_!" He tried and tried, but the Snatchers were catching up. Ethan winced in pain as he resisted a little shock, for a new curse he'd never heard before was taught the hard way.

"_ELECTRO_!"

Ethan was thankful that the curse only went passed him, and he felt a bit on his arm, but looked back in disgust, spat his revenge at the Snatchers by yelling "Incendio!" and made them fall behind. He had to go on fighting, no matter what. He had to, for Alana. If not, the Snatchers would take him, and he'd be stuck in—

And it hit him. Snatchers. It was perfect. They would lead him straight to Malfoy Manor! As prisoner, of course, but it was better than an endless search for the location of the palace.

So Ethan took a deep breath, looked at one of the engines, and, wand pointed at it, cried "_Gelacio_!"

The engine was frosted in a thin layer of ice, and slowly stopper, its hard roar dying with it. The boat stopped so suddenly and with such force that Ethan fell back, hitting himself as he crashed on the floor, sliding down, and almost fell off.

The Snatchers' boat appeared right next to the _Nightrider_, and three of them were quick to mount it.

"Well, well," said one. "Let's see who we have here!"

"What's your name, boy?" spat another. "Don't you dare lie!"

Ethan, who was face-down, tried, "Harry Potter?"

A Snatcher turned him around so rapidly, he hit his head again, causing much pain.

"Idiot!" said the Snatcher. "Now, what's really your name?"

"Umm..." doubted Ethan. "I'm..." What could he say to make them take him to Malfoy Manor, and not the Ministry?

"I'm... Adams. Jay Adams," he improvised.

"He's not on the list!" laughed a Snatcher. "If you're not on the list, the Ministry isn't searching for you. Why would you be hiding, then?"

"Because... Because I'm a friend of a Harry Potter and I know where he's hiding and I didn't want anyone to know!" Ethan exclaimed, pretending to seem worried.

The men exchanged several glances before one whispered, "You know where to take him."

_Victory_, thought Ethan.

The trio grabbed Ethan, took each of his arms and, before leaving, one of them stopped the others saying, "Are you alone on this boat?"

A yell from Conner bellow answered the question and, in a minute, the Snatchers had him held, too. Conner, of course, looked more nervous than Ethan, but not even close to a coward.

But the moment they Dissapperated, Conner shouted to Ethan, reminding him that Conner did not know a tiny detail about the situation: the magic part.

Both youngsters were punished by Conner's mistake, for they were both gagged. Ethan observed his surroundings. They had Apparated in a cold, grey stone path that led to a great, rusty old gate. Behind him, he saw an endless void. After the gate, high above it, one could see a mansion, fog dancing around it as though to entrance.

A Snatcher opened his mouth to speak as he led Ethan and Conner down the path, guiding them to the metal gate. "You'll enjoy your time here. Just like a five-star hotel. And you can tell the Dark Lord all you like about Harry Pott—"

His voice was drowned in the distant, high-pitched scream that Ethan and Conner instantly recognised as Alana's.

**So? Please review and comment!**


	6. Helplessness and Pityful Hatred

**Sorry for the wait, but I'll try to make it up with this chapter. The POV goes back to Alana now, in case some of you get confused. It's pretty long, but I needed to put a lot of information into this chapter. Reviews would REALLY help, so please… REVIEW! Well, enjoy, and tell me—well, write me- what you think!**

Alana's heart sank so low she thought it would never rise again. It hit her just then that she had read and imagined the Dark Lord, but had never actually met him face to face. She felt ashamed of the fear that suddenly crept over her, the cold shock that climbed up back, up her neck and infecting her whole body.

"Because, as I recall from my sources, you _do_ know _exactly_ what we are talking about," said Voldemort, pacing the room, his wand still at hand. "Forgive my Death Eaters," he continued, with no need to speak loudly, for every single voice had been silenced at once with his mere entrance. "As I understand, they have treated you in a rather… harsh and unwelcome manner. They were not instructed to do so and, therefore, shall be punished."

At these words, the Death Eaters, particularly Bellatrix Lestrange, exchanged worried glances. Dolohov, looking as pale as a Malfoy, stepped forward, muttering, "But, my Lord, if I may speak, you instructed us to—"

_Boom_. A single wave of his master's wand, and Dolohov slammed against the wall, becoming invisible among the crowd of servants.

"Now, Miss Sages—"

Alana did not even bother to ask how he knew her name, remembering that he had his "sources". She tried to recover, to look defiant and fearless, though she felt as though a thousand dementors stood beside her.

"Liar," she managed to whisper.

"What's that?" said Voldemort.

"You're—you're lying. I know you told them—" she pointed to the Death Eaters "—to bring me that way."

"No, I did not. Now, listen very carefully, Miss Sages. I know you get information about the future. If you were to tell me how, you would be rewarded with prizes way beyond your imagination. I possess great things, you see," he finished, triumph starting to show on his face already, as if claiming victory of a battle before the fighting began.

"And what if I don't?" said Alana in challenging tone. A few Death Eaters gasped at this, their faces giving away their urge to avalanche themselves over her. Voldemort, on the other hand, turned serious and angry for a split second, and then an evil smile spread across his face.

"Oh, but you see, Miss Sages, you _will_. One way or another…" he said.

"Well good luck trying to get something I don't know out of me!" Alana said. She crossed her arms and legs. She smiled and tossed her hair back, as though waiting with an air of indifference, though, inside, she felt she might break into pieces soon. The Dark Lord looked furious and raised his wand, causing Alana to have to fight her urge to lift her hands over her face for protection; yet he did something very unexpected.

"Get me Draco!" he shouted. Bellatrix Lestrange was quick to give up her wide-eyed nephew to her master, much to the sobs and dismay of her sister and brother-in-law.

"You want to test me, do you? Well, perhaps some proof will convince you to cease to deny your knowledge. _Legilimens Revelio_!"

And with that, Draco gasped so violently and looked so frightened that Alana almost felt pain in her own body, watching him unable to escape from his master's firm grip on his shoulder, his wand pressed to his temple. To her great horror, out of Draco's head came an image slowly arranging itself into focus, revealing two figures talking while walking on the unmistakable Hogwarts grounds. Like a movie projector, the image floated above Draco's skull, visible and audible to everyone in the room.

"_I'm sorry, the 'possessed' part slipped," said the first figure, a boy._

"_It's alright; I don't think they even noticed. But, Ethan, we've got to be more careful. I mean, if someone finds out what we know, everything would change," said a slightly shorter Alana. "They'll be suspicious. It would be obvious that it's not a coincidence that we guess everything before it happens—"_

A tear dropped on the real Alana's face. There was no point in pretending now, for her secret had been exposed.

"_You sure they don't suspect anything, Al?" said Ethan. _

"_No, you only said Harry was possessed, we can pull that off as a theory that later proves to be true. I don't think anyone will figure anything out—except Hermione, possibly, but we can manage to change her mind," Alana said, smiling at Ethan._

Now the whole thing seemed to evaporate, but not before the real Alana caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy in the background of the image, spying on herself and Ethan that day around two years ago. Suddenly, a new image replaced the first: Malfoy leaned against a wall in a corridor, crying…

_He heard footsteps, and hid behind a statue to eavesdrop. Peeking around, he saw the same pair as before walking steadily. Alana stopped abruptly, and Ethan went back to check on her._

"_What is it?" he said._

"_It's just—I—I can't bear th-the thought that—that he'll be gone f-forever and—" Alana sobbed._

"_It's okay. We know why he's doing it, and it would have happened anyway. And at least we know Malfoy won't be the one to kill him," said Ethan. "Bloody coward," he added. Alana smiled and wiped the tears off her face. _

"_You're right, Dumbledore knows. Are you sure we should show him?" she said quietly. _

"_Absolutely," answered Ethan. "Or do you want him to die without knowing how we knew everything all along?"_

"_No!" said Alana with a little gasp. "Let's go."_

_Malfoy followed them up to the gargoyle, until they chorused "Cauldron Cakes" and entered Dumbledore's office. _

Draco winced as the memory vanished, replaced by the quick appearance of some papers with dates and Hogwarts locations as titles which, Alana saw in despair, were all of her conversations with Ethan over the past few years, written right there on parchment.

The memories disappeared for good when Voldemort lowered the wand. At once the scream filled the room:

"YOU FILTHY TRAITOR, YOU BLOODY ANIMAL!" Alana yelled at Malfoy. She tried to erase the tears off her face, and saw Malfoy was in the same condition, only he was sweating uncontrollably.

"Loyal servants," started Voldemort, his horrible grin on his face. "Are we really to believe in the denial of this knowledge? Are we to trust in its nonexistence after what we have seen?" he asked.

"I see this as an act of disrespect towards me, and to you as well, for we have been treated like fools, and so our power questioned.

"Now, I will give you one more chance, Miss Sages, and you shall be rewarded, and you and your family shall be spared."

There was no use in denial now. The Death Eaters looked at her eagerly.

"I won't tell. You'll have to kill me first," she said flatly.

"Just join us, become one of us, tell us—" began Draco, his desperation visible to Alana. Anger rose inside her. How dare he try to use her for his own safety? He was the reason she was here in the first place!

"I'll die first," she said through clenched teeth. "Besides, don't pretend, Malfoy; then I won't, either. You told about me, now it's my turn." She turned to Voldemort.

"Did you know that Malf—that _Draco_—doesn't really want to be your servant? He's only afraid that you'll kill him if he's not," she said proudly. Yet, the moment she saw Malfoy's look towards her, she felt her stomach turn, and guilt boiled up inside it.

Instantly, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy gasped, followed by Narcissa spitting, "How dare you? Such lies, my Lord!"

Draco looked as though he might just punch Alana in the face.

"Do you?" said Voldemort, suspicion flooding his expression as he turned to Draco.

"Of course not, my Lord!" said Draco with a trembling voice, bowing. "N-never, master!"

"So… what is it you want to know, anyway?" said Alana after some silence. She had just saved Malfoy from deep trouble, but came to realise it two seconds after she did.

"Everything," said Voldemort.

In response, Alana pursed her lips shut and remained still.

"Very well… I did not want to come to this, Sages, truly, but if you just won't say… I'll have to be a bit… _persuasive_."

Draco winced so harshly and such pain shot through the look he gave Alana, she knew at once this must be a _dea ja vou _moment for him, and almost thought he felt something near pity for her.

Alana closed her eyes, preparing for what was to come.

"_CRUCIO_!"

Suddenly, Alana's bones seemed to catch fire. She screamed at the top of her lungs, though she could not hear herself. She fell off the chair and hit the cold stone floor. She shivered, for her outsides were numb with cold even when her insides were as hot as if she had swallowed Hell itself. Something sealed her throat shut, so that she could not inhale a single breath, though she continued to lose it in her inevitable shouts. Alana lost herself in a sea of pain, drowning in her own screams—

A great weight seemed to be lifted from her body. She found herself shaking unstoppably and, when she finally gasped for fresh air, her lungs stung sharply. Every muscle of her body felt weak, and her face was wet with tears and cold sweat. She had not even realised she had been crying.

"I'll—I'll n-never give in," she croaked, as loud as she could.

Voldemort raised his wand and, in a matter of seconds, Alana had flown backwards across the room and smashed against the wall. A painful headache made the girl forget her promise to herself about not begging for a moment but, as long-expected tears started to unwillingly fall from her eyes, she sat up with the words she thought would make Voldemort the most irritated, hopefully enough so that he'd kill her and end this for good.

"I'm n-not saying a-anything, b-but I have a question for you!" Many Death Eaters unsuccessfully tried to stop her. "Why _do_ y-you need me? You think you're not s-smart enough to find a teenage b-boy on your own? Well, you're r-right! You couldn't k-kill Harry Potter if he gave h-himself in!"

That was enough to do it.

"_CRUCIO_!"

It all came back: the being burnt up inside while frozen, the inner part of her bones vibrating, her lungs refusing to take air in.

About thirty seconds later, it was over again, but Alana had yelled so much her voice was dying out. After her last words, Alana started to doubt who was saner at the moment: her or Voldemort, for the snake-like figure's scarlet eyes looked more flooded with rage than ever, his features exposing his rage in such a way that even Bellatrix took a few steps back.

Her whole body was shaking so violently she lost control of her senses for a moment. Even though it hurt, she whispered something barely audible, but was still the strongest thing she had said so far:

"Y-You're not h-half of Harry Potter."

Lord Voldemort lost it. "_ELECTRO_!" he yelled in fury.

An electrical force took over Alana's body, her every limb ignited, sparks even bursting from it. Currents of light and power were shot from her mouth when she opened it to scream, hoping someone in the distance would hear her.

And someone did.

The second Alana thought everything was lost, that this was the end, her life was over, that she would drown in her own screams and the Death Eaters' laughs, that she was living her last second of sanity before going mad in the hands of the Dark Lord, someone did hear her. For, at that precise instant, a yell was heard at the door, the curse was lifted, even though she could barely feel the difference, and Narcisa Malfoy ran to it, coming back two seconds later with three men Alana recognised as Snatchers, who were holding the figures of two tied, gagged boys.

It was all a blur, but Alana finally got her eyesight back to normal, and her brain achieved to put the pieces into place.

Ethan and Conner both fought against the people holding them and, at the sight of Alana lying on the floor, started to shout, horrified, against the bonds over their mouths. Voldemort slowly turned to face the rebelling boys, which made them get worse. Alana made a hopeless effort to sit up, but she appeared to have lost all control over her limbs and couldn't carry a fourth of her own weight.

"My Lord," said Bellatrix Lestrange over the commotion. "One of them is the boy that accompanied the girl, the mentioned Almery. The second is a friend of the first!"

Voldemort hesitated, then commanded, "Take them down to the cellar!"

"No!" Alana whispered. She stretched out a hand in Conner's and Ethan's direction, but the hand was shot a burning charm, causing her to retreat it in pain. Laying there helplessly on the floor, watching her friends being dragged away, screaming and reaching out to her made her hate Voldemort more than ever. Reason and memory came back to her completely, but her lack of strength remained.

Voldemort poised himself above Alana and hissed, "A lesson well learned, I hope. I'll deal with your little friend later. Perhaps he will be inclined to say something after he sees what we'll do to you if you do not speak soon...

"But you've still got a chance, Miss Sages. I will give you a last chance to tell me, or I will keep going until you do."


	7. To Fall and To Rise

**Here's #7! Don't worry, I know it's very similar to 6, but it changes in the next one, I swear. Anyway, I'm not receiving any reviews since chapter 4! Please, I want to know what you think. So, I hope you like it. Oh, and I obviously don't own Harry Potter or any character in the original books. Conner, Alana, Ethan and the Death Eater Caira are mine, though. Enjoy!**

Alana looked directly into the scarlet eyes above her. Her great hazel-ish brown ones stared into the ones that seemed to be flooded with blood. Her face now reflected neither fear nor defiance. She simply waited with a neutral mask, waited for something to happen. Silence reigned the room.

"Nothing?" whispered Voldemort.

As a response, Alana, who had her mouth slightly open for breathing purposes, closed it completely.

"Well, then..." Voldemort murmured in rage. "So be it." He raised his wand once more, his face transforming into a horrible expression of fury and evil one can only see in the darkest of nightmares.

Voldemort's mouth was just opening and his wand was just descending when Alana made the decision that could, she thought, mark the difference between life and death.

"NO!" she blew out. It had taken her all her remaining strength to say his single word and cover her face with her hands. The room suddenly fell so quiet, a pin could have been heard softly landing on the floor.

"Fine," croaked Alana. "I'll... I'll tell you."

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile of triumph, and the Death Eaters looked at the girl expectantly. Alana knew her promise to herself, and she repeated it in her mind: _Don't say anything, no matter what they do to you. Don't give anything away…_

Yet, things had come to a point where, even though she had expected all this from the moment she was captured, they had gotten far too extreme. She had to stop it. This was enough. She simply could not take it anymore.

"Finally, common sense has got to you," Voldemort said mockingly.

No. Alana started to regret her decision. How selfish was this? Her body begged for her to make this stop, her mind to do the right thing. Confusion added to the agony.

An idea came to her suddenly. She took a deep breath, closed and opened her eyes, and forced her head up, staring right at Voldemort.

"I'll tell you," she repeated.

"Yes you will, otherwise I will have your friend to it," Volemort said.

Alana opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The screaming had wasted her voice. She touched her throat, afraid. Voldemort noticed this, and yelled, "Lucius! Can you not see the girl will not speak? Give her voice back so she can be useful, unlike you."

Lucius Malfoy jumped, stepped forward with his wife's wand, pointed it at Alana, and muttered, "_Sonorus Reparo_." Instantly, Alana felt her voice come back to normal. Her throat no longer ached, though the rest of her body did.

"You never needed my help. You'll... You'll kill Harry Potter in the end. He'll come to you," said Alana.

The entire room gasped at once, and Voldemort looked rather shocked, then wickedly smirked. He raised his hands and yelled, "Of course! Lord Voldemort depends on no one! I need no help! I will kill Harry Potter, for I am truly the greatest sorcerer that ever lived and ever will live!"

A great clamour took over the room, laughs and yells heard; the whole crowd of people that filled the room seeming to have gone in a fit of madness and weird, horrific happiness. Alana lost all breath, started to take small gasps and widened her eyes, terrified by the uproar she had caused. No one looked at her anymore, everyone had apparently forgotten her. The only thing that mattered was the announcement she had just made. Only one other person in the room appeared to be in the exact same condition as Alana.

In an enormous need for another face to look at apart from the snake-like one of Voldemort's, Alana turned her head to where, at the back of the room, looking more desperate and cowardly than ever, stood Draco Malfoy. The breathless, fearful boy exchanged a look with the helpless, weak girl lying on the floor, both seeming to express hatred, seek something unknown and ask for compassion, for each had irremediably changed the future of the other.

Voldemort turned serious again, turned back to Alana, and said, "Let's see if our little guest is telling the truth—"

Alana closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind as much as she could. A blank mind... Nothing to think about...

"—_LEGILIMEMS_!"

Before her eyes, Alana saw the flipping of a page. Quickly, she forced her thoughts to change; the image changed to her own concentrated face. Then everything blurred, and Alana found herself reliving a product of her own imagination: It was her interpretation of the moment Harry giving himself away to Voldemort, a clip her brain created as she read the shocking chapter of her favourite book.

Everything seemed quite unclear, for it was the memory of something she had imagined. Voldemort was stroking his wand, the crowd of black-robed Death Eaters behind him. A dark glow engulfed the forest where they stood. The faces of the Death Eaters were all practically the same, their features blurred; only the faces of Bellatrix Lestrange— whose wickedness was much exaggerated— and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were recognisable.

Voldemort whispered, "l thought he would come..."

"You weren't wrong," said a voice from somewhere.

Harry walked into the clearing of the forest and, immediately, whispers filled the scene.

"Harry Potter... The Boy Who Lived... Come to die," hissed Voldemort. Harry closed his eyes, Voldemort yelled, wand high, clearly at the top of his lungs, yet nothing was heard. There was a great flash of green light, a strange ringing that reached one's inner ear, Harry's body collapsing, complete silence, a thud, some unknown voice shouting "NO!" repeated times, and then everything was black.

Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed "He is dead!" into the emptiness. The darkness of the memory changed into a pure, eternal, white room. There was a glimpse of Harry's face, which looked as though he was asleep.

Alana forced the image to change. That part, Voldemort could not see...

Suddenly, the white disappeared and, in its place, appeared two giant hands, holding nothing more or less the Harry's corpse. All was swallowed by black again.

The scream was heard various times in different voices: Hagrid's, Hermione's, Ron's, McGonagalls's... Each seemed more and more distant, until the final "NO!" came with a great force in Alana's own voice.

Quickly, everything transformed again. The back of Alana's head was seen, her front reflected in the mirror facing her. Her face was hidden, but she suddenly looked up, revealing it, crying and splattered with tears. Everything blurred once more and, finally, the whole projection evaporated, bringing Alana back to reality.

She blinked. A single look around assured that Voldemort, along with the Death Eaters, had believed everything.

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort said slowly. "...is to die. Potter will die... I will triumph! The prophecy will be completed in my favour! I will kill Harry Potter, I will gain the power, I am to be—!"

Voldemort exhaled, laughed and stopped, apparently having finished the sentence in his head. He turned to face Alana. He bent down to where her trembling figure laid, his joy making him look more wicked, powerful and frightening than ever before.

"But there must be a catch," he whispered. "A price, a loophole that the little lady hasn't spit out yet."

Alana tried to look confused and innocent. Of course there was a loophole: the fact that Voldemort actually kills himself and that Harry comes back. But maybe... Maybe she didn't have to change anything in the plot-line of the story. Perhaps there was a way she could make Voldemort think that she was giving away precious information because of the torture, while she really was not helping him. There WAS a way, and Alana was pretty sure she had figured it out.

"Alright," she muttered. "There is."

"Liar!" accused Bellatrix Lestrange.

"No, I'm not lying!" Alana defended herself, starting to worry.

"Bellatrix, let the girl speak," commanded Voldemort. Bellatrix bowed and disappeared, head down, into the crowd of Death Eaters.

"I—Harry— Alright, the thing is you have to make Harry come to you. You can't go to him. There's only one way to do that: use his greatest weakness against him. I think you already know what that is..." she said. Voldemort was glaring at her with a hard, serious face, apparently deep in thought.

"Of course..." he hissed, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Still, you've got to be patient. You have to strike at the right moment, otherwise you won't be able to kill him," she continued, with a half-real, half-acted pain in her voice.

"In your memory, we stood on a sort of forest. What was the exact location?" said Voldemort.

"It's in—" Alana had to stop. This time, real tears prevented her from uttering one more word. The mere thought of Hogwarts overwhelmed her. Like a little child, a major longing for it formed in her chest. She wanted to get out of this, to wake up and realise it had been just a bad dream. She wanted to go home.

Yet, she knew this was nowhere near possible and that she would just go mad—faster, that is— if she kept pitying herself like that. So she snapped herself back in place and out of those depressing thoughts. _You're hurting yourself. That's what they want you to do, so they don't have to make an effort. Don't give them the satisfaction…_

She suddenly ignited with rage, for they had already done it. They had made her fearful, helpless, weak. They had humiliated her. They had made her more like Malfoy. No, that was not acceptable. No more tears. No more sobs. If this were to be the last moments of her life, she would use them properly. She would not fall like they wanted; she had started to, but she was still on time to rise once more before it was too late.

"It is Hogwarts," she said after a long pause, her voice completely different. Some Death Eaters lost the smile they had been wearing.

"Hogwarts?" Voldemort repeated. He had obviously not expected that answer.

"Yes, Hogwarts. At the end of term, there will be a great battle there. But, again, you must wait. And you have to do something..." she said with a mysterious air.

"Yes? Speak!" Voldemort pressured her.

"I think you'd rather I tell you in private. I don't think your, um..._ people_ ought to know about this last part," she said in a superior tone.

It was as if time froze for a few seconds. No Death Eater moved a muscle, their hatred-filled eyes all fixed on Alana.

After a few moments, Voldemort said simply, "Very well."

"Oh, and a specific time during the battle will come, and that's when you must do it. You have to wait until— well, I don't know exactly how to describe it, but you must wait. And don't seek him out— he'll come," she said.

"Anything else?" Voldemort whispered.

Alana glared at him.

"Well, then. Bellatrix, Rowle, Narcissa! Fetch the boys and bring them here, while I go down to have a private little chat with Miss Sages in the cellar," Voldemort commanded. At once, what had seemed statues moved across the room and disappeared into the stairs that led to under the mansion.

"Get up," he spat at Alana. With a look equal to the one he gave her, Alan began to raise her head, from the floor; she had been on the ground this whole time, supporting some of her weight on her left arm in order to be able to look up at Voldemort.

But something was wrong. When she used her arms to try and get up, they fell. They would not support the rest of her weight. All her limbs still trembled in misery. They were almost numb. And now that her mind was only thinking of her body and was not distracted with other thoughts, it struck deeper than ever before. She rubbed her own soothing hand across her legs to try and awaken them for use, and found them, to her surprise and horror, covered with blood. Her arms were in the same state. Her shirt was soaking wet with tears, sweat and even more blood. Feeling around her, her hand sank in the puddle she had created from these components. Alana had not even noticed she had been bleeding and, being covered with the substance all over and barely feeling any part of her body, could not identify where it was coming from.

Finally, the girl rolled up on her side. Only this took a tormenting effort. She was conscious of all the eyes in the room gazing at her. She swallowed before settling on her hands and knees, then carefully using all her strength on a sort of push-up, trying to stand. She placed her hands in front of her, her feet on tiptoe. She slowly moved to a crouching position and clumsily stood up. Her balance would not last long. The room burst with laughter.

Alana lifted her chin. She moved a few steps forward, though her legs shook and they threatened to let her collapse at any moment.

"There," she said. "I won." Those two words silenced, it seemed, the world. Alana kept her expression brave, triumphant and challenging. Voldemort gazed at her with his horrific smile.

"I've won," she repeated. "I've won over you, over all of you especially—" she turned to Voldemort "—over _you_. You know why—?"

"How dare you speak like that in the Dark Lord's presence? Shut up! Do not utter another wo—" said a short, curly-blond haired Death Eater.

"Caira, let the girl speak while she can," Voldemort interrupted. "I'm sure she has something very... WORTHY OF OUR HEARING to tell." His smile widened.

"I've won over you because I stood up. It cost me, but I did it. And I bet none of you could have done it if you had gone through what I have. I KNOW you're trying to humiliate me. But you know what? I didn't make any mistake. I didn't trip and fall! I was pushed! You see, you forced me to be this weak physically, I didn't mess up! So, I'm not humiliated. I'm not embarrassed. This is not my fault. In fact, I'm proud. I'm more valiant than any of you people. Any of you would have begged for mercy, would have not even tried to get up. I did stand up. And if I fall again, I'll stand again. If you kill me, I'll have died a great death. So laugh. Laugh all you want; I know better."

But nobody, not even Lord Voldemort, smiled.


	8. Safe Evil or  Eternal Torture?

**Okay, here's #8! I'm not getting many reviews, though I want to thank those who have submitted some: Yanyu, ThePhantomismyLove, teddybear101010, Eb75, … But I still need more reviews! Enjoy the chapter! **

**Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter. **

Alana had just enough time to look down at the wound Voldemort had just cut in each of her legs with a wave of his wand before falling to her knees.

She threw herself to the right. She was not stupid, she knew Voldemort wanted her on her knees as though it was a sign of respect or inferiority. She'd rather collapse completely than kneel before him.

"Never," she whispered at Voldemort.

Using the same process as last time, Alana stood up. Fresh blood was flowing from the new injury, and the burn in her lower thighs was growing larger and stronger by the second. She could not see how deep the cut was, but she did not bother to check. Without a word, she steadily glided towards the stairs through which Narcissa, Rowle and Bellatrix had just disappeared. She dragged her feet, making an effort not to stumble.

When she got to the flight of stairs, Alana knew it was going to be a rough task. She went at the speed of a snail, cautious of where she put her feet. At the last step, Narcissa Malfoy and Rowle stood, waiting for her. Voldemort had stayed behind, giving orders to the Death Eaters. As soon as she was within her reach, Narcissa grasped her wrist with a firm grip. Of course, Alana knew she was specifically furious with her for exposing her son's disloyalty. The woman twisted the girl's arm so fiercely she felt it ache in her shoulder.

Alana started walking, pushed by Narcissa and Rowle, through, she now saw clearly, a dark, dusty, grey cellar, with plenty of columns and walls, making it seem like a tiny maze. A few small cells stood on the corners, all so lightless that the insides were just black. Once, Alana thought she saw something move in one of them.

They got to the end of the cellar, and Alana was slammed against the wall. She leaned her weight on it, which brought amazing relief to her legs. Suddenly, she heard a very familiar voice, not so far from where they stood.

"Where is she?" yelled Ethan. "What've you done to her?"

"E-!" This was the only letter of Ethan's name Alana could say before Narcissa's hand covered her mouth.

"You want to see her, do you? Then come with me. She's upstairs. As for what we've done to her... Come see for yourself," said Bellatrix Lestrange's voice.

Alana thought she could almost feel Ethan's hesitation before she heard his steps following Bellatrix Lestrange's. A third set of steps followed, and she remembered seeing someone else with Ethan when he had first entered. At that moment, she had thought he looked like Conner, her neighbor and friend, but that was impossible. She concluded that she had probably imagined it. After all, she had just been tortured.

Finally, Narcissa removed her hand from Alana's lips, after Ethan's scream was heard: "You filthy liars! WHERE IS SHE?"

"Hello, Ethan..." Voldemort's voice was so chilling that Alana felt goose bumps cover her body.

A few minutes later, Narcissa and Rowle bowed to their master, who had just appeared in front of them, and left. Alana stared at the horrid creature in front of her, conscious that she was alone in the room with him.

"If you dare hurt Ethan—"

Instead of replying, Voldemort laughed. Ignoring her, he said, "Well? What is this I shall need to succeed in the elimination of Harry Potter?"

"You already know what it is," said Alana quietly. "You just don't know whether to believe it's real or not."

Voldemort glared at her suspiciously and took a step forward. Alana was flat against the wall, her hair wet with sweat, for it was much hotter down in the cellar than upstairs; she was panting sharply, looking up at the Dark Lord.

"That's right. You've got him here, don't you? You moved him up when you moved Ethan upstairs. He's here, in this house, you can't hide that from me... Ollivander."

Voldemort pressed his wand to her neck.

"What about Ollivander?" he said slowly.

"You captured him last summer, didn't you? You did it to interrogate him about something. Something you want, something you NEED to defeat Harry Potter. I know what happened in the graveyard that day. You're wands are sisters. You got Ollivander because you want him to tell you what to do. So, he told you to use another wizard's wand, which you took from Lucius Malfoy. Or haven't you had the meeting yet?" Alana breathed.

"Yes, we have had a meeting, after which I found out about YOU," Voldemort said.

"Then the wand you're holding is not your own, and the wand Malfoy used to give me my voice back was not his. Narcissa's, right?" she continued.

"Yes..." Voldemort repeated. His face changed to a mischievous look. "Then, you must know everything that happened at our meeting, correct?" he said.

Alarmed, Alana nodded.

Voldemort grinned. "Tell me, then... When is Harry Potter being moved from his home?"

Alana swallowed. She had forgotten this matter completely.

"Trust Snape," she whispered. Voldemort scanned her. Apparently having decided that she was telling the truth, he spoke again.

"Now, for Ollivander—"

"You know what I'm talking about," interrupted Alana. "Not just any ordinary wand can kill Harry. Even you have to admit that he IS the boy from the prophecy, he IS the Boy Who Lived. Nobody, including you, can deny that. You need a special wand, one that will never fail you..."

"Of course..." said Voldemort comprehendingly.

"...the Elder Wand." Alana was surprised that her plan had worked. She had told Voldemort something he would figure out anyway, yet her worried expression and hesitation made it seem as though she kept as the ultimate secret.

As Voldemort considered this, Alana felt the tip of Lucius Malfoy's wand sink deeper into her skin.

"Believe Ollivander," she said. "Do as he tells you, trust his every word."

Voldemort looked at her expectantly, so she finished by saying, "That's all."

To her horror, Voldemort did not agree. "It is not all," he told her.

"What more could you possibly need?" Alana asked through clenched teeth. "You know you'll kill Harry Potter, you have Ollivander to help you, you know what you need to do it—I told you everything! What more could be asking for?"

"Yes, you told me everything. But I want to know where you learned all of this. What is the source you use to predict the future, or to do whatever it is you do?" Voldemort said quietly.

"I'm not an idiot," replied Alana. "Don't you think I know what you'll do to me if I tell you that? After you got the information, you'd kill me. And even if I DID want to tell you, I can't. There is no source."

"Clever girl," said Voldemort. "Yet so flawed. You expect me to believe that you simply know all of this by coincidence? No, you are a good liar, but not that much. Nobody can fool Lord Voldemort," he said in an almost amused tone. All of a sudden, he looked interested, and removed the wand from Alana's throat. He moved a few feet away from her.

"You know," he said in a barely audible voice. "I will give you one more chance, Miss Sages. I believe you could be an accountable addition to my... army."

Alana froze. Voldemort spoke, taking a step forward with each sentence.

"If you accept this, you will grow to be a powerful woman. For, once I kill Harry Potter, I will rise to be the most important being in the universe, the ruler and controller of every human—and non-human—creature in the world. Thus, if you were to become my loyal servant NOW, you will be known as one of the people holding the highest possible honour. Thousands of generations after you will aspire to serve me, millions of children will dream of having this opportunity. Many will not receive it. And if you, Miss Sages... If _you_, who has the offer laid in front of her right now, refused, you would be known as that one child who disgraced herself for doing so. You would have missed upon many privileges and, probably, upon the survival of your family...

"So," he said finally. "Will you take this chance to change your destiny and have the _honour_ of being my loyal servant?"

Alana smiled at him with a grin that imitated his own. She started to bend in a bow, which made Voldemort's face light up in satisfaction and triumph. But when Alana was half-way down on the bow, she spat at his bare feet.

"It will be an HONOUR to die knowing I refused," she said loudly.

She flattened herself to the wall once more, her head up, as though she was ready to die right there and then. And she was.

Yet, of course, Voldemort did not kill her. For, as Alana knew, he needed her for more information. Fuming, he said, "Then you shall spend the rest of your dirty life prisoner! As you wished!"

"Proudly!" she screamed at him. Next thing she knew, an abominable force banged into her stomach, but she did not fall, for she was still leaned against the wall. And Voldemort had disappeared.

The girl stood there, her mind blank, her body immobile. She heard distant steps and the shaky cry of an old man. Soft voices chatted near her, though the words she could not understand. Also, there was a non-stop panting; at first she thought it was her own, then realised she was not breathing at all. She stared at the column in front of her, unable to move her head. From somewhere there came a creak of old metal and the click of a lock.

Then she heard her name. Someone repeated her name in exasperated shouts. At last she had the sense to turn her head to the right.

"Alana!" And then someone was there, holding her shoulder, his face enough to bring her back to reason.

"Ethan!" she gasped.

The friends were embracing each other before they knew it, both finding the relief they sought in the other. When they broke apart, Alana took notice of another boy beside Ethan. She approached him, disbelieving.

"No! No, it can't be! Conner?" she said. He nodded, clearly afraid.

"Ethan?" said Alana, turning to him. "How—Why—Did you bring him? Is he a—?"

"No, he found me and insisted he wanted to come. It's not my fault!" Ethan defended himself.

"But _you_ let him, you brute!" she pushed him. "Did you tell him?"

"Not exactly, but I think he _may_ have a hint about it, considering..." said Ethan.

"Considering?"

"...considering we got into a fight with Snatchers, Apparated here and saw Voldemort face to face," he said.

They both turned to Conner. "Did you tell me what? Wait—" he said. "—you don't mean you actually _know_ what's going on?"

"Sort of," said Ethan.

But, just as the explaining was about to begin, both stepped back, their eyes wide with dread. They had seen the rest of Alana's body: her bloody, ever-shivering limbs, how she sweated even while she was as cold as ice. And, though she said nothing, Alana grew weaker every second; her pain and the burn in her injuries stronger, her temperature more overpowering, her blood continuing to flow, thus less every minute.

"Alana... What did they do to you?" Conner said, panicking.

"Al! Did they—" began Ethan.

"Cruciatus Curse. Some electric one I don't know and a few more I've never hear of. Then a cut— oh, and a burn..." she said faintly. She stumbled and used the wall for support.

"You're pale," Ethan said. "Really pale. You need something to make the bleeding stop— Conner, help me—" he grabbed her shoulder firmly, helping her balance herself.

Her vision blurred again, and she could hear and feel her heart beating in her temple.

Alana heard her name one last time before falling into the arms of one of the boys and blacking out.


	9. Imprisoned Memories

**Ok, guys, here's number nine. I'm trying to update more often, but here's what I have for now. Thanks for all the reviews. Keep writing them, they really encourage me! Enjoy!**

Alana's eyes slowly fluttered open. The room in which she was in was dark, so she had to wait a while to be able to see everything clearly. She did not remember where she was or why. Why was her bed so hard? It felt like cold stone. Why was her room in such a lack of light? The mornings always brought beautiful sunlight through her window. Why did she feel so cold? Her sheets must have fallen of her while she slept. And why did her legs feel so stiff? She started to stretch them, and found she could not. They were tied together at her knees. What the hell was going on?

And then everything came back to her, and she began to try to get up in alarm. She pushed herself up half-way and fell. Her bonds did not allow her to stand up completely. Panic took over her, a fit of fury, agitation, distress and pain drowning her in gasps, fast heartbeats, twitching limbs and confusion.

She struggled against whatever tied her legs together, but the knot uniting them was too complicated. Alana wanted to scream, to challenge Voldemort once more, to remain Alana Sages, not a dependent little girl that was prisoner of the Dark side and did nothing about it. But she could barely breathe, so how could she? Her teeth were clenched, her heart beating out of her chest, her fists ready, her lungs busy at work delivering many sudden intakes of oxygen and receiving them gratefully, only to exhale them a second later. And then, amid all the confusion, she felt a hand.

A hand, a very gentle hand, rubbing her shoulder, holding her. A voice speaking a short distance away trying to calm her down. After a few seconds the words were comprehendible to Alana, and she tried to listen to them.

"Just stay still, it's okay, it's okay! We're alright, just calm down, Al, calm down! It's fine, everything's okay!"

She managed to twist her head, tears in her eyes. Into focus came Ethan's face, trying very hard but kindly to bring her back to herself. So she sat, breathing through her nose, much more relaxed.

"It's alright," Ethan whispered.

"Why are m-my legs t-tied?" she stammered.

"Oh, I— I tied them, but not to hurt you, obviously, for the wounds he made. You were bleeding too much, so you needed pressure. It's still too bad, we couldn't fix it. The fabric got soaked through with the blood really fast, but Conner was freezing, and we were taking turns—"

"Turns at what?" she said.

"Well..." Ethan looked very embarrassed.

Alana knew Ethan, and she could tell just by the look he gave her he wasn't going to tell her, and she would have to figure it out. So she took to inspecting the bond around her legs.

"Can I?" she said.

"If you don't black out again. It's up to you..." replied Ethan. He knew Alana didn't mind minor injuries. But that was no superficial cut. She soon realised that what tied her legs was a shirt, one that was dripping from the edges in dark red blood. She took it off her knees, and the relief was magnificent.

Yet, the wounds _were_ serious. They were located barely a centimetre above each knee, identical to each other: a straight line, slim but deep, the flesh in each exposed. It did not reach bone, but it was near.

"Wait—where'd you get this shirt?" she said, trying to avoid looking at her leg.

"It's Conner's," explained Ethan. "That's what we were taking turns at."

"But it's so cold in here! How can he be shirtless?"

"It's not so bad. We've gotten used to it. We take turns wearing mine so that neither of us freezes," Ethan said with a shrug.

Alana felt sorry and guilty at what her friends were doing for her.

"You don't have to do that," she said. She held the shirt in her hands and began to feel it properly. It was really soaking wet. She twisted it, hard, and a trickle of blood dropped from it. She unfolded it, but it was still red, moist and wrinkled.

"Where is he? I'm giving it back," she told Ethan.

"He's asleep, there on the floor," he responded quietly. "But, Alana, you have to keep _something_ on your knees, you're still bleeding. Otherwise—" He stopped.

Because they both knew what happened if one did not keep enough pressure on a serious, bleeding wound. And Alana was already feeling secretly dazed.

She placed a hand on the rough floor for support and tried to stand up, eventually succeeding, but only after a long period of tripping and stumbling. Once up, she moved forward and found Conner, curled up in a ball for warmth, obviously freezing. She gently wrapped the shirt over his bare shoulders, feeling it better than to wake him so as to have him put it on. She felt sorry that it was so stained and wet, but whatever protection it gave, she preferred for her friends to have it. After all, they had gone and searched for her, which had got them into the mess.

It took only a few minutes for Alana to realise that she was losing much more blood than she thought. Goosebumps covered her body, she shivered more every minute, and her skin was a lighter colour than usual. But she ignored everything and tried to make it less obvious to Ethan, who watched her carefully. She sat down beside him, forcing a smile.

"So..."she said. "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half," Ethan replied.

"I'm sorry," Alana whispered.

"Sorry for what?" Ethan laughed.

"For driving you into this mess."

"Al, you sacrificed yourself to protect me. I should have been tortured right beside you," Ethan said quietly. "If anyone, it's me who should be sorry."

"They cursed you, it's not your fault you couldn't help me," she said. "And I know you would have done the same thing for me."

"Yeah, I would've," Ethan responded with a smile.

They sat there for a while, looking into each other's eyes, both knowing they were thinking about the same thing: their friendship, which had a very long history. They had known each other since birth, for their parents had been friends as kids. Even as babies they played together and met regularly, and not once had they fought. Then, when Alana had been six years old, she had moved to the small neighbourhood, eager to make friends. But, back then, she had been a shy little girl. Nobody who knew her know would have ever imagined this to be true, and yet it was. Of course, she had turned to Ethan, the only kid there she knew for help. He had introduced her to the group of girls there without hesitation, because they had not yet reached the age when embarrassment entered their innocent minds.

So Alana got to know them, played with them, followed their habits, and tried to become one of them. She soon discovered something very new and alien to her: there, in Blue Woods Valley, there was an incredibly strict division and unspoken rivalry between the girls and the boys. Having grown up with Ethan and her brother as her only friends up until that moment, she had never known such a fight.

Not just a fight, actually; no, this was a war. If one looked at it in this way, one would find that it was true: There were two sides, each with their own territory; both of them had different strategies and abilities, using them well against the enemy. Even if they WERE a bunch of small children playing pranks as their battles, it was a war. And Alana was quick to catch up, and she was soon dedicating all her afternoons planning how to attack the boys next, hidden in the girls hideout between some bushes behind a backyard.

But she was a smart kid, and she also started to notice another fact. The girls were few, and their priorities were very strange to Alana. They spent their days making sure they had a clean skirt, or their hair straight, or their nails clean and shiny. They took to trying to talk Alana into dressing like them, into talking like them, wearing her hair loose like them. The girls jumped at the smallest beetle or animal, squeaking irritably for someone to kill it. When Alana simply grabbed it and returned it gently to the grass of the park, they shrieked in disgust. Apart from that, they were mean and acted superior to the boys every time they passed by one of them, whereas the boys only attacked for defence.

And then something happened that changed the course of her future forever: she had the first idea she'd ever come up with by herself, an idea that was perfectly planned, with just the right hint of malice. An idea that was not innocent. Her first idea of stating who she was. Her first statement of independence.

And with this idea it was that her rebellious nature was born.

And yet, all of this happened because of this idea, and nobody would have ever imagined it, not even Alana herself, because this idea was so simple and insignificant at the first impression. It was the idea of betrayal.

At the middle of one battle where water bombs flew above the heads of the children who threw them, meant to land on the other side's head, seven-year-old Alana carried out her idea. She was on the girl's side of the battlefield, and had just dodged a water bomb thrown by a brown-haired boy with dark eyes, his shirt soaking wet, laughing with delight and taking great part in the fight, along with young Ethan, because they were partners and leaders of the boys— this joyful, brown haired boy was little Conner.

Alana's bomb hit Conner right on the face, blinding him long enough for her to run as fast as her short legs could carry her, past him, past every boy, and paused coolly in a corner behind them.

"Get her!" Conner had screamed.

Ethan had gone over with two other boys, a bit smaller than him— maybe five or six— water balloons in hand, and they cornered her easily.

"Surrender," Ethan had said.

To make it obvious that she meant no attack, Alana put her only bomb, her only weapon or defence, on the ground; she had then raised her hands.

"I don't surrender," she had replied to the boys' smiles of triumph. Confused, they had threatened to throw the bombs, but Alana had interrupted, "I'm going to help you. I _want_ to help you. I know the girls' plans."

"But _you're_ a girl! Why would you help us?" Jimmy, one of the boys that had come with Ethan, said.

"Those girls aren't like me," she had said. "I don't like them. If you'll let me, I want to help you fight, not fight you. It's not fair that I have to compete against the people I sympathise with, and much less along with the people I don't, just because I'm a girl."

The boys had then shared a glance, smiled, and nodded. Years later, Ethan told Alana that they had always noticed that she was different. So she had happily begun, "Alright, Isabelle is going to distract you, while Mary throws a bomb at the ones on the back..."

When she had finished, they had stood up, now a team. They had joined the rest of the boys, and had explained the new strategy, and then they had attacked. In no time, the girls had water dripping from their clothes, and they had only two of them left who had not surrendered.

And then the boys had stepped back, making the pair of girls think they had given up, that they had won. They turned to each other to celebrate, distracted. Then Alana had appeared, a water bomb in each tiny hand, and she threw with all her strength. Each bomb had found its target: the noses of the girls.

They had turned to this traitor, shocked, shrieked, and stormed away. Since that moment, Alana had the ability to identify enemy and ally. And still on this day, when she was sixteen and remembering this, the girls still lived in Blue Woods Valley, and they still wanted revenge.

She had then found her place, and she was never doubted among the boys. She grew up with them, battling on their side, playing with them. Her closest friends were Ethan and Conner, with whom she spent most of her childhood. She had friends at school, but not as trustworthy as Ethan and Conner, especially Ethan.

Then when she was nine, her friend Lucy had told her about a great book series she'd heard about called Harry Potter. Alana had looked for them, and was so fascinated she shared them with Ethan, convincing him to read them. That was what gave them the idea to play in the old park—the last place they had stood before being captured— to pretend they were part of the story, giving themselves names and histories. It was what brought them to imagine and to enjoy many moments together.

And then, when they were eleven, the letters had arrived in both their mailboxes. They'd thought it was a joke at first, but it was confirmed that it was not when Albus Dumbledore showed up at Ethan's door (when Alana's family was there as well) to explain everything to the children and their parents.

They had told everyone—including Conner—that they were going to a boarding school far away, and headed off together. Literally, they had set off together toward their dreams.

And oh, their surprise when they spotted Harry and the Weasleys boarding the train! Without doubting, Alana had greeted Hermione and become friends with her, and Ethan joked around with Fred and George. They'd become part of the group.

And, all those years, they went along on the adventures they'd read about: they were waiting eagerly for Harry after he'd sought the Sorcerer's Stone; they had avoided the basilisk cautiously (since they were both Muggle-borns), but Ethan had been attacked; they had hidden behind the Shrieking Shack until Sirius had emerged; they had cheered for Harry in the Triwizard Tournament and kept an eye on "Mad-Eye Moody"; they had been part of Dumbledore's Army and fought in the Department of Mysteries; they had fought in in the Battle of the Astronomy Tower and witnessed the death of Dumbledore, crying, even if they knew it was meant to happen. And, of course, they were part of the party that was supposed to take Harry away to the Burrow. And they were going to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts bravely, to their deaths, if necessary.

Which was precisely what they had been talking about the moment before they were captured. Because of this, they might not get the chance to fight that day.

All of this, they remembered at the same time. There, in the cold cellar, they looked into each other's eyes and sat there for who knows how long— seconds, minutes, hours— and simply remembered. Then, the most unexpected thing happened: they smiled. For the first time since that afternoon in the park, they smiled truly, not a forced smile to make another feel better.

They were enveloped in a sort of trance, but just then a grunt followed by a voice broke the silence.

"Is it my your turn to— Wait, what's going on?"

They both turned to see Conner stretching in mid-yawn, eyes now open and alert.

"Oh, hey, mate," said Ethan.

"Hullo, um... is it my turn to wear the shirt, then?" he replied. "Or— Alana! You're awake!" Conner seemed to wake up completely after noticing.

"Yeah," Alana sighed. "Sadly. I can feel the pain now."

"Oh." Conner appeared to be having trouble finding a response.

"But it's okay," Alana said quickly, trying to keep her friend from feeling uncomfortable. "I mean, I'm sure I'll get better soon. And put that shirt on, it's downright awkward to talk to you when you're like that!"

She'd seen him like that before when they went to the beach, or to Ethan's pool, but she made up the excuse because of the cold. The three of them were shivering in July.

_July_... The thought of the date reminded Alana of something.

"Guys," she said. "What day is it?"

"Well," Ethan said, scowling. "I've really lost track of time. We were at the park at about five in the evening, then you got captured. We went after you at sunset, got captured at about eight-thirty— they took my watch then. I'm guessing you came downstairs at around a quarter to ten, you've been out for a day and a half, which would make it... the morning of the eighth." He gasped. "Oh, hell! I'm so sorry!"

Alana chuckled. Conner looked confused. "Wait..." he said. "The eighth... Hang on. Isn't the ninth—?"

"Yep," said Alana, smiling. "Tomorrow's my birthday."

"Oh!" said Conner. "Yeah... Yeah, I knew that."

"It's okay if you didn't remember. You know me better than that, you know I never get mad," Alana said.

"Damn you!" snapped Ethan. She laughed. Conner looked taken aback.

"Ethan, mate, what's your problem?" he said.

Alana, still laughing—even though her legs were killing her— replied, "He's jealous. My seventeenth birthday means my becoming of age. So, in other words—"

"She can do magic whenever she wants, and it's legal," Ethan said bitterly.

"So, in _your_ world, you're of age at seventeen?" Conner asked. The other two nodded. "Sweet!"

"It also means," said Alana, "that, when I recover, nobody can track my magic when we escape the hell out of here."


	10. When Our Time Comes

**So here's the tenth chapter. Please review . Something unexpected is about to happen…**

The days went by slowly. Alana's birthday was celebrated by telling jokes to make her laugh, singing her a birthday song and blowing the imaginary candles of an imaginary cake.

They were provided only enough food to survive. Three times a day, they sighed with relief when three chicken legs, three slices of bread and three bottles of water magically appeared in front of them. They tried to ignore the roaring of their stomachs, but it was not easy.

In the cellar, it was sometimes very cold, sometimes very hot. The three of them could be freezing at one point, and then covered in sweat an hour later. There was obviously some sort of enchantment behind this but, without their wands, there was nothing they could do about it.

Alana's legs hurt wildly and, even though she tried to hide it from them, Ethan and Conner both noticed. Every time they offered the shirt-knot again, she refused.

The boys were interrogated some days after Alana, but not nearly as harshly. Neither of them gave anything away. Voldemort had only found out that Conner was a Muggle, which was not that big of a problem compared to others.

Conner and Ethan introduced— well, showed, as they'd met before— Alana their fellow prisoner, Mr. Ollivander. They spent some time talking with the poor old man, reassuring him that they would get out soon... even if they didn't have much hope themselves. Once, Ollivander was taken away upstairs and came back badly bruised, unable to mutter a single word, and passed out almost immediately.

So, long story short, they were injured, hungry, restless, tired, uncomfortable, _very_ hungry, angry... But the worst part was clear: They were _too_ bloody _bored_.

The three of them entertained themselves by telling stories, jokes, talking. None of it worked for long. True, they were very mature, advanced people; in Alana's and Ethan's case, magical. But you couldn't cross out the fact that, despite all else, they were three teenagers stuck in a stone cave with nothing to do.

None of them kept track of time, so they soon lost it. Horrible hours went by, dull days, maybe even a few worthless weeks.

Then something very bad happened. Every second, the misery Alana's legs produced grew. The wounds refused to cease their bleeding, and it did not take long for the trio to realise they'd caught an infection. Alana's skin condition was awful, and the injuries seemed to be rotting (as disgusting as it may sound).

Worse, a few days after being captured, Alana fished a cold. Having no medical attention, it worsened, so that she soon fell very ill. The boys tried to help, but it was of no use: Alana was quickly falling sicker, slowly slipping away from them.

After about two and half weeks of being prisoners, they realised something awful. They didn't speak of it, but the three of them knew it was happening. Alana had a raging fever, she was pale as snow, a giant headache attacking her, she sneezed every few seconds, and she was so weak, she could barely talk. Her legs did not help, for they made the misery greater and—every now and then— more bleeding would come.

Nobody said it, but even Ollivander had come to face the abominable truth: Alana was dying.

One day, she couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't stand seeing her friends so sad, so depressed, and yet trying to convince her that everything was going to be alright, that she would get better soon. So, that day, while they were waiting for food and Conner said, "Al, don't worry. Everything's gonna be fi—"

She snapped, "Everything's gonna be fine? Really? Guys, this isn't something that just goes away, it has to be treated. Okay? There's no hope for me! I don't mind! I was going to die _eventually_—"

"Al!" said Ethan, shocked.

"I was!" she continued. "We're _all_ bound to die _someday_, then why be afraid? Even—" she nodded towards the stairs— "even _him_. Look, I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but it's no use. All of us know that I'm going to die in a few days, and I don't—" Her voice broke.

She'd thought about it so many times, she was sure she was okay with it: she was dying, which was better for everyone. No pain for her, no information for Voldemort, something less for to bother Ethan and Conner when they escaped. But saying it out loud, hearing the words "I'm going to die" from her own mouth, suddenly made her realise the real thing. She was never coming back. In a few days, maybe even less, she would disappear from the face of the earth, become barely a memory. Her life was over. Many things she had wanted to accomplish would be done by another; she would never again do the things she loved... And, worst of all, she would never get the chance to say good-bye to so many people, especially her family.

"...I— and I don't— don't mind," she whispered. "As long as you get out, and you don't tell him, it's fine. I know how you must feel. I'd never let either of you die. But put yourselves in my place: _he_ wants me; I'd possibly put others in danger; if I go mad and tell him, the story will change, and we'll all be either killed or slaves in an eternal age of darkness ruled by an immortal villain with more power than anyone in the galaxy."

Ethan and Conner exchanged a look. Alana was gasping for breath, because talking so much had made her even weaker. She was surprised to see that Ethan— whom she'd only seen cry about trice in their entire lives— was teary-eyed. But they weren't tears of sadness. His face was burning with anger. For a moment, she thought he was angry at her, but them she understood.

"There's nothing you can do," she told him in a barely audible voice.

He shook his head. "Yes, there is. I'm not letting you die, Al."

"_We're_ not letting you die," corrected Conner.

Alana smiled sadly. "I appreciate it, I really do, but—"

"No. Don't say anything. We'll figure it out," said Conner. "Now get some sleep."

"No way," said Alana, even though she was incredibly tired. "It's my watch. Your turn to sleep."

"I'll watch and wake you if they come," replied Conner.

"Well," she said. "While you argue over there, I'm eating."

She nodded towards the entrance of their prison, where a dark silhouette was approaching.

"Al, stop trying to change the subject," said Ethan.

"I'm sorry," said Alana. "I just—" She gasped. She fell back, coughing. A wave of nausea shook her, threatening to overwhelm her. Her voice was gone. She was shivering, as cold as ice, and she had trouble breathing. Her vision blurred once more.

"Al!" Ethan yelped.

"No! Al, come on, say something!" Conner said desperately.

She couldn't find the strength to speak. In fact, she could not find the strength to do anything at all. Her breathing slowed, because each gasp hurt. She coughed nonstop until she was simply not breathing anymore. Instinctively, she checked her pulse, only to find that it was unusually slow. She suddenly stopped coughing, taking a small, shaky breath once in a while.

She lied down on the floor, looking up at the faces of her friends, who were screaming words that Alana could hear only vaguely, as though from a mile away. She could make out Ethan yelling, "NO! I WON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!" His out-of-focus image ran towards the place where the shadow was, a Death Eater entering the cellar.

"YOU IDIOTS! She's dying! Your stupid master killed her! Now how are you supposed to get what you want, huh?" Ethan's voice shouted.

"NO!" said the voice of the Death Eater, Caira.

While Ethan banged on the metal gate, Alana could feel Conner leaning above her, closer, closer...

"Please, don't give up," he whispered. "You'd be killing a part of me, as well, if you do."

She managed to shake her head and give him a weak, faint smile. _Your last smile_, a part of her brain said.

"Alana..." said Conner quietly. She felt one of his tears splash on her cheek. "If you're going to leave, there's something I never got to told you." He leaned in closer and kissed her.

For a split second, Alana felt fully alive, and she could have sworn her heartbeat was faster than a running cheetah. Then she realised what was really happening, and shock coursed through her. This was, after all, one of her best friends kissing her. She wanted to push him away, but something held her in place. Before she knew it, she'd kissed him back. He moved back nervously and said, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head again. "D-don't," she breathed. Conner crouched beside her, and she stretched out her hand for him to hold. Just then Ethan came running back and poised himself on Alana's other side. She could make out a red liquid around his hands, which she guessed was blood from banging on the gate.

"Al, please..." he said. She gave a tiny moan. _It's time_, said the voice in her head. She heard footsteps approaching, but ignored them.

So Alana looked at each of them. She wanted to see something pleasant as her last view ever. She closed her honey-coloured eyes, the thing people found most beautiful about her, for the last time. She squeezed each of the boys' hands, then let go all of her strength.

The pain started to ease, and she knew it was over. Her the infection had reached her heart, and know her body would cease to function. She didn't know what lay ahead, but she was ready. She was glad with what she'd done in her time alive. She wished she could have done more, but no matter. She'd done her job. Now it was time to leave.

_Goodbye_, she thought. She felt herself falling asleep, though she knew that, this time, she would not wake up again. She sank deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, until everything was black, and she could not hear her heart beating. She took one last breath, let it out, and relaxed.

And that's how Alana Sages responded to Death.

But right then, when her heart refused to beat one more time, it was forced to. Alana heard it, and felt a great rush. She felt the infection draw back, first her heart, then along her veins, reaching her feet and her head. She felt again, felt her friends' hands in hers, felt herself floating back up into the world of the living. She heard voices, calling her name over and over again.

Alana opened her eyes.

She felt amazing. Indeed, she'd never felt better. She was filled with energy, her senses worked better than ever, and there was nothing in the universe that could stop her. She stood up to face the laughing Dark Lord, feeling like she could take him down there and then, even with no wand. She didn't even pay attention to Ethan and Conner, talking to her still from the floor.

"You filthy piece of crap," she spat. Her voice was more powerful and defiant than ever. "You missed me, huh? Couldn't bear the thought of living without me?"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Voldemort. "Considering I was the one who almost killed you. And the one who brought you back from the dead, you ungrateful little brat."

"Please! There's no such power. Don't act like you don't know: you cured me before I died. Not after. Nobody—not even you— will ever have that power," she replied.

"A lesson well learned, I hope," hissed Voldemort.

"What? I WAS READY TO DIE!" she bellowed. "If the lesson you hoped to teach me was to be afraid of you, you're the worst bloody teacher in history."

"Of course, but I would never give you the pleasure," continued Voldemort.

"I know that," she said. "You waited until I was on the very verge of death to make me suffer, blah, blah, blah. I'm not as stupid as you, Tom."

His eyes widened at the name. "I know more than you think, Tom."

"Treat me with more respect, or I will—"

"—hurt me again?" Alana said in an amused voice. "Eternal pain? Well, you see, Tom, I don't care! I'll live again, and I still won't tell you! You will _never_ control me, not even in your dreams!"

He threw a curse at her, which she dodged easily. "Missed me," Alana said in a mocking tone.

Voldemort turned and left. At the door, he said, "You _will_ bow to me soon, Sages. Just wait. When you are begging for death at my feet, I will give you the chance to be my servant, and you will see. Mark my words: you will admit to me that you are nothing compared to me, and you _will_ pledge yourself to me. And then, you will be reminded of this moment. Very soon..." He left, and Alana screamed a swear at his shadow, then turned to her friends. She ran over to them, as her legs did not even have a scar left of the wounds once there.

They just hugged and lived happily for who knows how long. When they broke apart, Alana looked at Conner, who was red with embarrassment.

"Um.." he said. "I–I thought you were— I mean about the— Look, I'm sorry, I—"

She smiled and kissed him.

"Excuse me," said Ethan, perplexed. "DID I MISS SOMETHING?"


	11. A Short Vacation to Romance

**Hey, guys! A little late, perhaps, but you can be sure I won't stop! I'm already starting the next chapter, and I'll upload it as soon as possible. Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate you taking a little time to write something, even if it's just a couple of words, they encourage me to keep writing! Enjoy, please review!**

**Oh, and I don't own the Harry Potter series or any of the characters/plots originally by J.K. Rowling.**

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>"He—he made me do that. I shouldn't have called him Tom. He gave me more than I needed... I got overconfident. Now he'll be sure I know more than he thinks..." Alana muttered angrily, but her smile quickly repainted itself across her face.<p>

She and Conner— who was looking quite bewildered— blushed and turned to Ethan.

"Ha, ha, funny story," Conner began. "I sort kissed her when she was dying, you know— a goodbye kiss." 

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Mate, that was _not_ a goodbye kiss. _That_, my friend, is called snogging." He smiled awkwardly. "So, have you two got a thing going on, or—?"

"No!" Conner said quickly. "I— no, I mean— Fine, I've kind of, um, liked her for a while—"

"Are you talking to me or to her?" said Ethan. "Because I'm pretty sure you're supposed to address the person you like when you make that sort of confession."

Conner looked like he might punch Ethan in the face. He turned to Alana. "This is..."

"Downright awkward," she finished for him.

"Yeah," he said. "So, I guess you wouldn't be stupid enough to believe me if I tried to dismiss that as a friendly goodbye, right?"

"You know me better than that," Alana said. Inside, she was very excited and confused. The truth was, when she was a little girl, she'd once had a bit of a fancy for Conner. Nothing significant, of course, simply a seven-year-old liking another, but now she remembered those times, when she felt that tingle in her stomach every time she saw him. He'd been her first crush.

She'd gotten over him swiftly, and laughed years later at her own feelings. Nobody had ever been told, and even she had almost forgotten. She tried to think back to those days, to the reason why she had fallen for him...

There was the skills. When they played War, he thought of everything: snacks, shields, a great hideout, flash lights, even cushions to sit on. He was always a gentleman, letting her go first at everything, telling her to hide when somebody attacked. Alana had always corrected him, since it annoyed her to be treated differently because of her gender, and he had learned to respect her that way; but still she was grateful for his intentions.

Well, you couldn't leave out one obvious part, even if it wasn't Alana's priority... But Conner's _looks_: his dark brown hair, which was always ruffled and messed up; his deep brown eyes that seemed to see right through you; his magnificent mischievous smile, the most beautiful part of him, which always suggested he was bursting with joy, always happy, like he'd just heard a really funny joke.

"Sooo..." she said carefully. "You've... you've got a crush on me?"

"Gee, is it that obvious?" said Conner sarcastically.

"Maybe," said Alana. "Well—um... Since when?"

"Well, honestly? Pretty much since the first day I saw you," said Conner. "I mean, you were always different. I like different. You weren't just one of the bunch. You were your own person, independent since we were little kids."

Alana felt herself blushing. So Conner had liked her, too? She sat down, reckoning— and hoping— that there was much more to the story.

"I got over you really fast, you know, just friends. But when you left to the boarding school—"

"Hogwarts," Ethan and Alana said in unison.

"Yeah, Hogwarts," said Conner. "When you left... I missed you, Al. I missed you both. And I started to think, maybe that childish crush wasn't so childish. I thought, for a while, maybe I really _was_ in... in love."

The word "love" made Alana's stomach turn inside out. _What the heck is wrong with me?_ she thought. _I don't really like him, do I?_

_Think again_, said a voice in the back of her head.

"Anyway, I tried to forget it. I got over it... Almost. I hadn't realised it, but I never _truly_ forgot you. Nobody ever could," said Conner. Ethan had a stupid smile on his face. "When I saw you in the summer, I enjoyed myself better than ever, but I still didn't think about it. I forgot until I this summer, when I saw you and I remembered the reason why I fell for you the first time. I realised I'm still kind of crushing on you, so I broke up with Lucy."

"What?" exclaimed Ethan. "When?"

Alana was now unable to swallow. "After eleven months? But... you told us she was the girl of your dreams!"

"Mate," said Ethan. "Do you have any idea what you gave up? She's amazing! I remember, before I went to Hogwarts, she was the most popular girl in the fourth grade."

"Exactly," said Conner. "She's kind and smart and all that, but here's the thing: there's a dozen other girls almost the same as her. Not Alana. You're unique, Al."

Conner wasn't known for being smooth at the time to sweet-talk a girl, but Alana was having trouble processing everything at the moment. Then she snapped back to herself. What was she thinking? Was a childhood fancy really leading her to think that she presently loved Conner that way?

She ran through the list of things to like about him in her head. She realised, all of a sudden, that she _did_. Maybe she could give this a try. What did she have to lose? If it didn't work out, they'd just be friends again. A part of her knew that it be hard to forget something as big as a relationship, but another was impatiently screaming at her to hurry up and tell Conner.

"In other words..." Conner went on. "Al, do you— would you like to—"

"Sure," she replied, much to Conner's obvious surprise. "Let's try it. If it doesn't—"

"We'll be friends," he finished for her. "Nothing will have changed. I promise that."

"Me too," she said. "But promise me something else."

"And what would that be?" he said with an excited smile.

"Don't act differently around me. I like for who you are, don't act all awkward because of this," she told him with a pleading look on her face, as though she was already losing him. Indeed, she was afraid to. Conner was such a fantastic, bright person, she was terrified that might change. "I'm still expecting those pranks on the weekends."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," he said, a mischievous look in his eyes. "They're already planned. I promise."

"Great. Then the answer is yes," she said.

There was a moment of silence, and Ethan said, "Well, this is the most awkward first date ever."

"Oh, about that," said Conner. "I think our waitress is here, Al." He gestured to the gate, where Caira was entering with a plate of water, bread and chicken.

"Where are eating, then?" said Alana.

"I'm taking you to the finest restaurant within miles, of course!" he responded. "It's called Voldy's Deadly Café. I'd take you somewhere nicer, but my wallet got stolen by the people who gave us a ride here. You know, Snatch You Up Boat Rides."

"Might as well sit down, then, Conns," she said. They sat against a wall as Ethan murmured something like, "A bloody column, am I?

Caira dropped the plate on the floor in an ungentle manner, and leaned down to whisper in Alana's ear, "You're a filthy little brat. You got lucky for now, but you're nothing compared to my master. Alright?"

So Alana whispered back, "I'm not a better witch than he is a wizard, I know that. I'll probably never be. But I know, for a fact, that I'm a better person. You can still be a great person, Caira. You've got your whole life ahead of you! You can still make a change in the world. Not for me. Not to win the war. For you."

Caira slapped her across the face, but Alana saw the hesitation before she did. As the young Death Eater left, she turned slowly. "I will not question my allegiance, you dirty piece of scum. I am dedicated to master, the Dark Lord, and all of my loyalty will always lie with him. I'd make the Unbreakable Vow. Someday, when you finally join us, you will thank me. Then perhaps, I will forgive you for what you have said." She exited the cellar quietly, and Alana could have sworn she saw her wince.

"Where did that speech come from?" Conner said, impressed.

"Honestly? I have no idea," she answered.

"Let's eat, please!" said Ethan.

So they ate, joked, talked. Alana told Conner about how she, too, had fancied him once before, and Ethan claimed to have known they'd end up together all along.

"Would've put my money on it," he assured them.

When they'd finished, Ethan said, "I think I remember Caira. From Hogwarts."

"Yeah," said Alana grimly. "She— she was a Ravenclaw. She was really mean, always hung out with Slytherins."

"Hang on," said Conner. "Didn't you tell me, once, that the Ravencliffs—"

"Ravenclaws."

"—were the smart ones, and the Serpenteens—"

"Slytherins."

"—were the bad guys?"

"Yes," said Ethan. "But they're not just smart, or just bad. They're _mostly_ that, but there can be bad smart people, or loyal brave people. Being from a house doesn't mean you can't have another house's traits."

"And Caira," said Alana. "She was a Ravenclaw, like I said, but she was always interested in Voldemort. I heard her wish she was a Slytherin a few times."

"But she was a genius," continued Ethan. "She always was."

"She still is," Alana said firmly. "But she made a stupid mistake. I'm sure she'll be smart enough to get out of the Death Eaters before it's too late. She's an evil genius, sadly."

"But... How old is she?" asked Conner.

"She's three years older than we are..." said Ethan. "And I turn seventeen in October, so she's supposed to be twenty right now."

"And... Which house were you again?" asked Conner.

"Gryffindor," Ethan and Alana chorused.

"Which are...?" Conner wondered.

"The brave," said Ethan proudly.

"Like our symbol, the lion," said Alana, straightening.

"Whoa," Conner said. "Fits you both well."

"Thanks, Conns," Alana said. She locked eyes with him and smiled. Soon, they began a much happier conversation about the houses, explaining to Conner the system of the house points, Quidditch, their battle experience, everything.

When they got to the part about Umbridge, Conner laughed and made a face of disgust, then said, "Wow, I feel sorry for you guys... So, maybe I should read this." He got up, walked towards a dark corner, then came back holding up a book.

Alana's smile melted off her face. "What—is—that?"

"The book, _Deathly Hallows_. I'm going to start now, we obviously have the time. Anyway—"

"YOU HAD THAT HERE ALL THIS TIME AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?"

Conner looked confused. He looked at the book and handed it to Alana. "Sorry, I didn't know you wanted it—"

"Ethan, did you know about this?" Alana demanded.

"No, I thought he left it on the boat!" Ethan responded, raising his hands.

"Conner," Alana said patiently. "Come over here for a moment." She didn't wait for a response. She grabbed Conner by the wrist, the book on the other hand, and pulled him into the darkest part of the cellar. She started to speak in a voice so low, Conner said, "What?"

"I don't know if the cellar's enchanted to hear what we say," Alana whispered in a barely audible voice. "Do you have _any_ idea what could happen with this here?"

"I—"

"Conner, this is—" She looked around nervously. She reached to his ear. "This is what they're after. If they find this, everything will change. Don't you understand?"

He nodded. "I am too stupid."

"Yes, you are. But it's okay. You're only stupid for some things."

"I'm really sorry... I should've told you before, I didn't realise—"

"I'm sorry, too. I got really mad at you, but—"

"You had the right to. It's me that—"

"No, Conner—"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

"Okay."

There, in the dark, their lips met once more. Ethan walked in, looking for them. "Al! Conner! Where the hell—"

He stopped. "Oh... Sorry for, um... Interrupting." Be had that idiotic smile on his face again as he walked out.


	12. The (Almost) Escape

When Alana and Conner came back to where Ethan was waiting, he had his eyebrows raised at them.

"Alright," said Alana. "We have to destroy the book."

"How?" Conner asked. "You guys don't have wands. We don't have fire. We can only... rip off the pages?"

"No," said Ethan, serious again. "One _Reparo_ spell and they mend it back together."

Alana was suddenly smirking, an eyebrow raised.

"Wait a moment," Conner said. He stared at her, then exchanged smiles with Ethan. "We'd know that look anywhere," said Conner.

"Yep," agreed Ethan, rubbing his hands together. "Al has an evil plan."

She nodded. It was the mischievous side of her acting up, the one that had developed as a result of all the years of pranking and playing with the boys. She now became the clever member of the team that planned a great strategy to beat an opponent, not a weak prisoner in a cell.

"Guys," she said. "I think it's past time we got our wands back."

"You're a hundred percent sure you know the plan?" asked Alana for the last time.

"Yes," said both boys at the same time.

They all had practice in planning a strategy. They'd attacked while playing War and playing pranks on each other so many times, they were experts at making flawless plans. All them knew each other's strengths and weaknesses: Ethan was the stealthiest, yet he was unable to lie to anyone or create a diversion without bursting out in laughter; Conner was a great actor, perfect for distractions, but he wasn't that great of a runner; Alana could outrun anyone, any day, though she couldn't hide anywhere without making a noise or stepping on something.

"Great," said Ethan. "The plan's set, so let's get some sleep."

The other two didn't argue. They were all exhausted after staying up so long planning their escape. So they said their goodnights and lay down on the floor.

Alana woke up, sweating. She looked around, and immediately knew something was going on. The cold presence of Lord Voldemort filled the air, and she could've sworn she could actually feel it crawling onto her skin, going right through it and stinging her bones. Automatically, she felt that feeling she was so ashamed of, the one that had she had _really_, deeply felt for the first time when she met Voldemort in person: fear.

She clapped her hand over Ethan's mouth and shook him, pressing a finger to her lips. She pointed to where the painful screams of an old man were coming from, and light of different colours flashed. Ethan nodded and silently woke Conner. Together they moved into the darkest part of the cellar, barely daring to breathe. They listened to Voldemort and Ollivander, horrified, though they could only see Voldemort's shadow.

"I believed another wand would work, I swear!" Ollivander's voice croaked.

"You better not mess up next time, Ollivander," Voldemort said in a raspy voice. "I am about to replace you, for which reason I suggest that you prove yourself useful before I decide to dispose of you."

A thud, some panting, and Voldemort stepped into the little light that entered the cellar, looking around as though he was scanning the room.

He smiled evilly and turned exactly to where the trio hid.

"I hope your stay here has been comfortable," he said coldly. "Do not worry, your boredom will end soon. Before long, things will change around here."

"Oh, you can be sure of that," Ethan whispered after the Dark Lord had left.

"Conner," Alana said quickly. "The book."

He held it up. "He won't get it while it's in my hands."

Once they were sure the book was still in their custody, they ran to Ollivander, who lay semi-unconscious on the floor.

"Are you alright, Mr. Ollivander?" Alana said gently as she and Ethan helped sit against the wall. He groaned in response.

"We'll... we'll let you rest, sir," said Ethan.

As they got up, Alana said, "I can't believe how long we've been here." Ethan nodded.

"How do you know, exactly?" said Conner.

"That— what we just saw— Harry saw it, too," explained Alana. "It's in the book. Right now, Harry's at the Burrow. It's... It's his birthday." She took the book and opened to the page where it described the scene to show Conner.

"Oh, so Harry Potter's of age now?" asked Conner.

"Yeah," said Ethan. He swore and clapped his hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" said Alana, laughing.

"I haven't gotten the present yet!" Ethan exclaimed. Alana and Conner smiled. Ethan could lighten up the darkest of situations.

"Yep. We've... We've been captive here for two months," said Alana, shocked. Then she rubbed her hands together. "Now I'm sure it's long past time we got out of this hell."

"Right," said Ethan. "So, remember, the plan's to go—"

"Sshhhh!" snapped Conner. "Magical eavesdropping!" Then he glanced at his friends, as though asking if he got the answer right.

"Oh... Yeah, right. Magical eavesdropping... Um, sure, I knew that." Ethan looked a bit embarrassed. Then he patted Conner in the back. "I was just testing you, mate. Good job," he said approvingly.

Alana tried not to laugh. "You ready?"

The boys nodded. "Great," she said. "Let's bust out of this cellar." She took a deep breath, and turned to Ethan. He mouthed the words _one_, _two_,_ three_. Then she screamed, "HEY, VOLDEMORT!"

Nothing happened. "YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE FOREVER, DARK LORD! Not even all of those so-called servants can! Especially some specific ones, like Draco Mal—!"

She stopped herself. No, she'd brought enough bad fortune on Draco already.

"I mean, really, you call those forces an army? You'll never win a war with that!" she continued to yell. "It's an insult to fight against those—"

As expected, a Death Eater stormed in through the cellar gate. "Shut up, you insufferable girl!" she screamed. She was a reasonably young witch, thirty at most, with wild red hair and cruel eyes.

She glared at Alana, who smiled innocently, signaling to the boys, hidden in the shadows, to proceed.

"Oh, sorry, was I disturbing you?" Alana said calmly.

"Don't act like you didn't you anything, Sages!" the Death Eater spat. "You're a prisoner here, and you follow our rules! Now I suggest you _shut up_, since it's us that have been keeping you alive. I have every right not to."

"Go ahead," said Alana cheerfully, extending her arms and raising her head. "Kill me. I'd have loved to see the look on your master's face when he finds out you killed his source of information."

The woman, who'd taken her wand out, hesitated. She groaned and said, "You're clever. You would've made a good Death Eater. Your loss." Then she looked around and added, "Where are those stupid friends of yours?"

Right on cue, a voice said, "Here." Before the redhead could react, Conner tackled from behind, slamming her face-down to the floor. Ethan appeared next to him and leaned down and took her wand so fast she could barely scream. The woman struggled, but Conner turned her over so he could see her face and pinned her tightly to the stone floor. He covered her mouth before she could shout more than a word. Ethan pointed her own wand toward her and said, "_Silencio_!" The muffled words disappeared completely. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" And she turned as still as a rock.

Panting, both boys retreated. Alana said, "Awesome job, guys."

Conner rested on his knees and said, "Yeah, just like old times."

"But, Ethan," said Alana. "You were supposed to give me the wand. You haven't turned of age, you've still got the Trace on you!"

Ethan had been silent. He was staring, wide-eyed, at the wand in his hands. "Sorry. I'd almost forgotten how it felt to do magic. Such a rush..."

His look was not hungry for more. It was sad, as though he were talking about a friend he missed. Alana bumped him shoulder to shoulder. "It's okay. You'll be doing it again soon."

Ethan nodded grimly, and seemed to wake up from his trance. "Now, let's hurry. The Ministry will know we've performed magic soon because of me."

He tossed the wand to Alana, and she immediately felt her skin tingle with the magical aura coming from it. She understood Ethan for wanting to use magic after so long.

Even though she was pretty sure it wouldn't work, she said, "_Accio Wands_." Nothing.

Alana walked over to the Petrified Death Eater on the floor and aimed her wand at her chest. "I know you can hear me. When I lift the spell, you'll tell us where our wands are. If not, we'll keep you here until you do. We'll Obliviate any other who comes looking for you. _Finite_. _Sonorous._"

She covered the woman's mouth and said, "Will you tell us, or rot with us down here?"

The servant pointed to Alana and traced her neck with her finger.

"Your'e a prisoner here," said Alana. "You follow _our_ rules. But it's your choice. _Petrificus_—"

The Death Eater winced and shook her head desperately. Then she gave Alana a look of surrender. The girl uncovered the woman's mouth and placed her wand at her throat. A chill went down her spine suddenly, and she shivered violently.

"You okay, Al?" said Ethan, stepping forward.

"Yeah, I'm— I'm fine," Alana said, turning back to her prisoner. She'd realised she'd done the exact same thing Voldemort had done to her. She swore she could hear a cold voice in her head saying, "_Go ahead, Alana_. _You know it's right_. _Take your revenge on her_. _She's one of the reasons you're here_."

"No!" she said aloud. The Death Eater she was standing over chocked, and Alana realised she'd dug her wand deeper into the woman's throat. She softened the pressure on her victim's neck.

"What's your name?" she asked the servant.

"I g-gave up by true name y-years ago," she croaked.

"Which to you go by now, then?"

The woman glared at Alana.

"Well, whatever-your-name-is, would you like to tell me where our wands are?"

"I— I c-can't!" she said in a raspy voice.

"Why is that?" Alana asked. Besides running, her best ability was using the power of words. It had gotten her out of many situations, including her most recent dilemmas, like almost going insane from torture, getting blasted into dust by a Death Eater with red hair; nothing she didn't do on a regular basis. She'd realised words were lifesavers for much more than the English Literature exams. She was amazing at using words in many ways: from things like this, loopholes and confronting people, to making them her own in writing. After all, she had dreamed of being a writer before finding out she was a witch.

"I serve the Dark Lord!"

"We know that," said Alana, pretending to be annoyed. She didn't like playing cruel, but she knew, for a fact, it would be easier to get to her prisoner's nerves that way. "That means you know where our wands are, right? Then tell us."

"Or what?" spat the Death Eater.

"Or I'll do this," said Alana. She stood back, pressing the woman's wand to her temple. The servant tried to get up, but Conner pinned her down with ease.

"You wouldn't!" she said, trying to laugh, but Alana saw the fear in her eyes. "You're not _capable_ of taking your own life!"

"Oh, no, that's not what I'm going to do," Alana said. "What's the point? I'm just giving up what your master wants." She took a deep breath, pressing the wand firmly to the side of her head. "You know the spell. One word, and my memory disappears. I won't remember who I am, nothing about my past, and certainly not the future."

"Al—" began Conner, taking a step forward. Ethan gave her a nervous look. Alana shook her head.

"Trust me," she said. She closed her eyes and started to say, "OBLIVI—"

"NOOO!" screamed their prisoner, so loud Conner had to cover her mouth amid the exclamation. Ethan sighed with relief. The woman gagged, trying to get Conner's hands off her mouth.

Alana loosened her shoulders in relief also. The plan had worked. "Let her talk, Conns," she said.

Conner nodded and removed his hand from her lips. He held her down at the floor by the shoulders so that she couldn't move.

"They're in the cabinets!" she cried. "The cabinets of—" She stopped and tried to push Conner from above her, panting desperately.

"I can still do it," Alana said, bringing the Death Eater's wand back to the side of her head. "Just one word and the information's gone."

"Fine!" she responded miserably. Tears actually glistened on her eyes. She looked up and whispered, "Forgive me, master. They're in the cabinets of the main dining room! It's— it's where we have our meetings! The Dark Lord will be guarding them. He will take them into his position today, for... for safekeeping."

Her voice was really filled with pain and shame. Alana suddenly understood that this Death Eater was as loyal to the Dark Side was she was to hers. It was really hurting this woman to betray her master, but she'd done the right thing. She was as convinced that killing Muggles or Muggle-borns was right as Alana was sure it was wrong. To this woman, Alana was the villain. There no such thing as wrong or right. Just each person's opinion or belief. Alana felt a pang of guilt, but then remembered why she was doing this.

"Who else is guarding?" asked Ethan sharply.

"We take turns. Right now it's Draco and Avery," said the Death Eater.

"Great," Alana told her. "Thanks for the info. We'll be going now."

"Please, don't—"

"_Petrificus Totalus_." And the woman froze, speaking no more.

"_Silencio_. Just in case." Alana sighed, staring at the woman. There were maybe hundreds more like her, serving a despicable wizard and thinking it was right to kill, imprison and torture people just because of what they believed in, or even for being born with Muggle blood.

"Let's get going, guys," said Conner, standing up. "It'll be a few moments until they realise what's going on."

Ethan and Alana nodded. The metal gate was open, since the Death Eater had probably thought she'd go right back up after scolding them, but Ethan pocketed the keys just in case.

Alana crouched next to Mr. Ollivander, who sat against the wall, unconscious. She touched his shoulder gently, and he immediately woke, murmuring, "No, please... I don't know..." He then registered Alana was the one next to him and relaxed. "Willow.." he whispered. "Eleven inches and three-quarters... Hair of a— of a—" He looked into her eyes and sighed weakly. "Hair of a centaur. Almost impossible to get... Yours is the only one..."

Alana stroked the old man's arm. She'd grown fond of the old wandmaker in the last few weeks, talking with him and trying to give him hope that everything would be alright. She felt almost as though she was responsible for him, like a grandfather she'd cared for her whole life. She was used to him muttering like that, a person's wand. It was a way for him to still be himself. After all, he never forgot a wand he sold, nor to whom, not ever.

"Sir, we're leaving today," Alana said softly. "We're escaping."

Ollivander shook his head. "You can't... _He's_ here... They'll kill you..."

"They won't. We have a plan. We're going to be fine," she told him.

"How will we leave?" croaked Ollivander.

It hurt Alana to say her next words. "Mr. Ollivander... You aren't coming with us, sir."

The man looked so heartbroken and miserable, she was tempted to take him with them. But he would only slow them down. Besides, Dobby would get him safely out in a few months.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't. We won't... You won't make it. But I swear you'll be out soon. Harry Potter will get you out."

Ollivander clearly did not believe her, but he nodded firmly. "Go, child," he said in a small voice. "You are young... You must live… You are hope… I am old, you must survive, not me..."

"Sir—"

"Al, we have to go," said Conner urgently.

"Go," said Ollivander. "Now may be your only chance."

"Thank you, sir," she said. "Goodbye." She turned to her friends.

They exchanged nervous glances, then quietly headed out the door, taking slow steps. None of them was really enthusiastic about fighting an army right at their base, especially now that Voldemort was there in person.

They climbed up the steps together. As they reached the top, they covered their eyes, blinded by the light that came from the opening that led to the hall. They were fortunate enough so that nobody was there.

Alana examined the corridor. There was a plush black carpet, dark wooden furniture and green walls decorated with grotesque pictures. On the right wall, next to an oil painting of a fat woman holding a cup filled with what looked disturbingly like blood, hung a framed mirror. Alana usually didn't care much about her appearance, but what she saw when she looked into it left her horrified.

Her usually tanned skin was pale as paper, covered in grime, stained with dried blood from her old wounds. They had been cured, but Voldemort had left the blood as a reminder of what could be done to her. Her hair had a thin layer of dust all over it and it was wild, greasy and messed up. Her clothes were ripped and filthy, her nails overgrown and filled with dirt. And her eyes… oh, her eyes…

They were still that honey, hazelish-brown colour, but they were deep with emotion, like a pool made of her own feelings. Looking into them, she could see the surface, where her eyes reflected joy, relief and freedom. Yet, as she swam deeper into the pool, it became darker and harder to reach. There, she found grief, longing, sadness, anger and shame. Finally, she found the bottom, and saw the part she hid most about herself, the one she never let show and almost drowned: fear.

"Um... Al?"

Ethan's voice snapped her back to herself. She'd probably never spent so much time in front of a mirror. But she hadn't been staring at her _appearance_; she'd been marveling at how clearly she could identify all those emotions inside of her, only through her eyes. She blinked and looked away, feeling as though she'd just come out of a trance.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I... Let's go."

Conner and Ethan looked nervous, so Alana beamed and said, "C'mon! What are you standing there for? Let's go kick some Voldemort butt." Then they went back to normal.

They quietly headed out, looking around, expecting for someone to pop out and attempt to kill them. They walked through many corridors, each with more luxury decor than the last. Some had magical items hanging on the walls, and others simply had vases or paintings, like one might see in a normal home— except for the fact the vases were made from gold, silver and other expensive things and that the paint trainers talked, saying, "I'd give you away to the masters of the house, but since you won't make it out, I'd rather watch you die. It's the only entertainment we ever get."

At last, when Alana was about to step through past yet another doorway, Conner pulled her back and whispered, "No!"

"What?" she asked.

"Look." It was the entrance to the living room. And there, right on the back wall, were a pair of mahogany cabinets.

Easy! They just had to walk over there, open the cabinets, and get their wands and head out of the mansion to Apparate to somewhere safe. The only problem was the army of Death Eaters gathered in front of them. Oh, right, and their master right at the end of the table they sat around.

The trio hid around the edge of the open door, just so that the reunion was visible.

"—what you're going to do about the girl, my lord?" a Death Eater was saying.

"Yes, and about the other two boys?" another said.

Voldemort raised his hands, and the room fell silent. "They must be kept prisoners. Whenever I seek information, I have the girl as a resource. As for the boys, they do not appear to have the same knowledge, even though one of them—Almery, I believe- claimed to."

Alana glared at the boys. Ethan shrugged and mouthed, _Just trying to help_.

"However," Voldemort continued. Every word sent an electric current down Alana's spine. "They must be kept in somewhere different. I do not want them in a place so... _exposed_."

Lucius Malfoy, obviously terrified, leaned forward nervously. "P-Pardon me, my lord, but I— I can assure you our cellar is com-completely safe for prisoners—"

"For regular prisoners, yes," Voldemort said, fixing Malfoy a look so intense the man sat back a little shakily. "But I have observed them. They are clever. Very much _annoying_, but clever nonetheless."

Ethan knit his eyebrows and whispered, "Hmph. Now it's personal."

"I have concluded the girl will not join us under any circumstances. But perhaps the boys are easier to persuade," said Voldemort. "Now, I want somewhere to keep them that is impossible to escape. Find it, and move them there."

Beatrix said, "Master, our cellar _is_ impossible to escape!"

Alana stepped into the room. "Actually," she said, trying to sound confident. "It's not." The guys stood on either side of her. All of the Death Eaters gasped in outrage. Bellatrix and the Malfoys looked like they wanted to disappear right there and then.

"NO!" Voldemort bellowed. "Seize them!"

Alana readied herself to fight, but something very unexpected happened. Every single Death Eater on the table vanished with a small _pop_, one after the order, causing a sound like popcorn in the microwave.

Alana did a stupid thing. She lowered the wand she had in her hand, confused, and stared at Voldemort, the only one who had not Disapparated. She was about to scream at them for being cowards, when suddenly an army of Death Eaters materialised all around the room: one in each corner, two beside each of the boys, four in front of the cabinets, three surrounding her. Others spread around.

Everyone stood frozen in silence for about two seconds. And then all hell broke loose.


	13. An(other) Attempt at Freedom

**Hey, guys! Sorry about being so late, but Chapter 14 is coming quicker, PROMISED! Now the story is coming quicker, I had writer's block for a while. Hope you enjoy! Again, reviews really encourage me to go on. Ideas are welcome, but I won't necessarily use them. Remember this takes place exactly at the moment where Chapter 12 ended, when they storm into the Death Eater's—and Voldemort's—meeting. THANKS!**

The Death Eater behind her tried to grab her arms, but Alana had been preparing. She'd had two months stuck without anything to do, and she'd sometimes practiced with Conner and Ethan to keep themselves in shape and practice for the day they got out. It was hard without their wands, but they fought.

Alana elbowed the man behind her, then turned and kicked him in the stomach. The other two surrounding her tried to grab her, and she punched her in the eye. She yelled, "Argh!" and covered her eye with her hands. Alana took the chance to hit her in the nose. The woman must've been very stupid, not using her wand, but the third was not. This one sighed and said, "Fools." He took out his wand and said, "Idiot girl. We will crush you. You are standing up, wandless, against fully trained witches and wizards. One might think you _enjoy_ being beaten."

Alana rolled her eyes. She'd always wondered why villains talked and gloated for so long before actually attacking. They gave heroes time to escape as they boasted. She surprised him by raising the wand she carried. "How?" the man cried.

"A friend of yours lent it to me," said Alana. Her mind was thinking at an incredible speed, trying to remember spells and jinxes. She cried, "_Stupefy_!" and the Death Eater collapsed, but she heard a quick noise behind her back. Too late she realised that the man she'd first fought had recovered and hit her with a curse.

She gasped as she felt a small spot of her back explode in pain, slowly spreading along her spinal cord, reaching her neck until she felt her whole upper body trembling with a horrible ache. It wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, but it still was enough to make her want to drop to the floor in misery. Yet Alana found the strength to look back and blast the Death Eater with a nice "_Petrificus Totalus_" in the face. She didn't stop to admire her work; instead, she turned around to the other Death Eater and kept fighting.

She dueled with him for a while. She shot spells she'd learned from classes as well as from the books, but the Death Eater was a fully-experienced wizard. He threw hexes at her that she'd never heard of, curses she couldn't recognise. Finally, he screamed, "_Electro_!" It was that spell Voldemort had used, the one that had almost electrocuted her.

Instinctively, she raised the wand and yelled, "_Protego_!" A magnetic force appeared between Alana and her attacker, shooting them both into the air, and the strike of lighting that had come from the man's wand rebounded, hitting the Death Eater on his chest. For a moment he stood there shaking, sparks dancing all over his body, then stopped, his hair standing up and smoking, and fainted.

Alana took a breath and turned. Conner and Ethan were at different ends of the room. Each was fighting about three or four armed Death Eaters at a time with their bare hands. She shouted, "Ethan, your turn!" He instantly glanced at her. She threw the wand into the air, and he smiled as he caught it. Ethan screamed something Alana didn't catch, and then a blast of light exploded around him.

Alana smiled to herself as she watched the Death Eaters turn blue while a layer of frost covered their skin, then harden into ice, making them a quite odd display of ice sculptures. She winked at Ethan, but then turned back to other dilemmas.

A couple more Death Eaters headed towards her, but there was only one thing on her mind at the moment: Conner. She desperately looked around, searching for him, and when she found him, her heart sank.

He had obviously been jinxed many times; it was surprising he was still on his feet. But that didn't last for long, because a blonde woman with crazy eyes shot a stream of fire at his ankle, and he fell to the floor with a scream. He had a swollen arm and many bruises. But Alana knew from experience that most of the damage wasn't outside. Conner had probably been hit with spells that scared him in his insides, pain that was not easily visible to others. Yet, Alana understood. She couldn't stand to see him wither in misery on the floor, knowing that he hated the same thing as she did most in the universe: helplessness.

Conner struggled to his feet, even against all odds. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, then punched a guy in the face. He made a woman trip by sliding his foot under hers and pushed one more shoulder to shoulder. He kept fighting, dodging spells, though every other time he'd get hit. He was no match for magically armed adults, and he knew that, Alana was sure, but still he never gave up. He was losing the battle, but he didn't care.

Alana was busy trying to get Narcissa Malfoy away from her, but she was still looking at Conner. Suddenly she noticed Voldemort walking slowly amid the commotion as though nothing was happening, making his way and not taking his eyes off the same thing as Alana.

The Dark Lord grabbed Conner by the wrist so firmly, his hand turned red. Conner gasped but couldn't help it: he looked at Voldemort straight in the eye, his own full of something Alana had never seen him show: fear.

Every Death Eater ceased to attack all out of a sudden, silence reigning in the room. Narcissa caught a sharp on both of Alana's arms, but she didn't care. She let herself be grabbed this time, because she was only paying attention to Conner, who was just standing there, staring at Voldemort, frightened. Even Ethan, who'd been doing great hexing Death Eaters, stopped abruptly.

Voldemort did not let go of Conner. He glared into his eyes coldly and, without taking his gaze away from Conner's eyes, said, "A Muggle."

Alana's stomach turned inside out. Conner's eyes widened in terror. He didn't move or try to escape, not even free his wrist from Voldemort's hand. The Dark Lord threw his head back and laughed. He turned to Alana and said in an amused voice, "A Muggle, Sages? This is the best you can do? I apparently overestimated you. Who would have thought, after all your useless effort to protect these boys, that one of them was a Muggle! Is that why there was a missing wand?"

Alana swallowed. She had never—_ever_—seen Conner so afraid. She felt so mad at herself, so angry, so... guilty. She gave Conner a look that she hoped would express her sorry, her gratefulness, her urge of hope. He started to look less terrified and more angry, but not completely fearless.

She needed no explanation for how Voldemort had known Conner was a Muggle. There was one wand missing, and Voldemort was the most powerful Legilimens of all time, so he could sneak into Conner's mind even more easily than a regular wizard's, since he couldn't use Occlumency to defend himself.

Then something happened that made Alana so mad, she wanted to take out Voldemort right there and then. Still laughing, he said, "Filthy child. Muggle, then? I'm glad. You'd be a disgrace to all the wizards of the world!" He pointed his wand at Conner and casually said, "_Crucio_."

Conner's yell was so full of agony it made Alana wish it was her getting tortured again instead of Conner, knowing how awful it was. Her eyes watered, but she tried to hold back her tears. That was what they wanted. She tried to run to him, try to save him, but Narcissa's grip was firm.

"Watch him," she whispered in her ear. "This is all your fault…" Alana wanted to hit the woman, but she couldn't find the strength.

"Stop it!" she yelled. "He doesn't know anything! He's not going to be useful for you!"

"We'll use him for amusement!" one of the Death Eaters said.

"No!" Alana shouted, struggling against Narcissa's hands around her arms. She was having a really hard time not to cry now. She glanced at Ethan and saw he was also trying to get to Conner, but a man with a wicked smile held him back, his arm firmly around Ethan's neck. They locked eyes, both of them full of misery.

At last, Alana couldn't stand to see Conner roll on the floor, yelling, a crowd of Death Eaters laughing at him as though he were some sort of comedy. She managed to elbow Narcissa in the face and take advantage of her short release to run forward. She was expecting someone to stop her or get in her way, but nobody did. They let her drop to the ground next to Conner, tears streaming down her face as the Death Eaters made a circle around them to watch. She took Conner by the shoulders, but he wouldn't even open his eyes.

Voldemort lowered his wand, and Conner ceased his yelling, though he was still shaking horribly and gasping for air. Alana ran her fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him, but no words came out.

"Well, well," said Voldemort quietly. Every other voice was silenced. "What do we have here? The poor girl wants to save her friend! Unless..." He looked around and laughed. "No. Can it be? Sages, perhaps you... _love_ him?"

Alana met the Dark Lord's eyes. She then looked back at Conner, letting the tears flow.

"No!" exclaimed Voldemort, his voiced amused. All the others laughed with him. "In love with a Smuggle! Sages, you truly _are_ an embarrassment to the wizard race. A blood traitor, nothing more."

She was able to ignore the Death Eaters making fun of them, throwing insults and calling them names until one said, "Well, let's be nice with our guests, shall we? Let's let them go through this… _together_."

Alana was confused for an instant, but she realised what he meant a moment before it happened. Voldemort cast the spell, and suddenly there was flash of violet light: the Cruciatus Curse once again.

She'd been humiliated enough, and she wasn't going to let it happen again. She wasn't giving any more speeches. She was just going to get the wands, and get the hell out that nightmare. So she dodged the curse, pushing Conner, and yelled to Ethan. He understood and threw the wand, which Alana caught in midair. She got up and looked at Voldemort in the eyes.

"I already told you, it's no good," she said. "I can't be humiliated anymore. I won't let it happen. Conner's not going to be either. Yes, I do love him. And _nobody_ hurts someone I love— especially not my boyfriend."

Conner was reacting now, and at the word "boyfriend", he raised his head a bit. "Leave... Leave her alone!" he said through gritted teeth. He stumbled as he got up, and one of the Death Eaters pushed him back down. "Let both of them go!" he said.

"Conner," Alana said shakily. "Don't worry. Ethan and I will be fine." Voldemort smiled. It was clear that he was expecting her to face him in a duel, just like everyone else. So Alana took a deep breath and dived between the legs of the Death Eaters, which caught them by surprise.

Since everybody had been too busy making fun of Conner and her, she had only one person blocking her path to the cabinets: Draco Malfoy.

She ran towards the mahogany set at full speed, not looking back. She reached the cabinets, where Draco was blocking them, his arms spread.

"Please," Alana hissed, a pleading look in her eyes. "Just let us go. I—" She dropped her voice so that nobody else could hear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying what I said, alright? You caused enough trouble in my life already, at least get me get out of it on my own."

Draco looked so terrified of his master that Alana felt she should say something else, but the Death Eaters were about to get them now. Malfoy was shaking his head wildly, but he began to step aside. He froze for a moment, and Alana told him, "I'll make it easier for you. _Stupefy_." Malfoy collapsed, as stiff as a piece of wood. "Thanks, Draco."

She opened the drawer and found her willow wand and Ethan's _ one waiting at the bottom. She picked them up and pocketed the one she'd taken from the red-headed Death Eater. A Death Eater shot a spell at her, but she turned and screamed "_Protego_!"

She threw Ethan his wand, and then he came to stand back-to-back with her. Now that they were together, wands in hand, they were unstoppable.

So they fought for who knows how long, dodging jinxes, blasting Death Eaters in the face with every spell they'd ever learned, combining their strength like they'd done for so many years. Conner was also back on his feet, though not as well as be used to be. He tried to fight Death Eaters with his bare hands, and it wasn't going very well. He went to join Ethan and Alana as they ran for the door.

Ethan and Alana were doing amazing, but the Death Eaters they defeated didn't stay down for long. They were only slowing them down, attempting to make their way to the doors. Death Eaters killed in battled. They eliminated their targets completely. Alana's and Ethan's fighting strategy was much more difficult, but both of them refused to kill anyone, no matter how much harm they had brought upon them. Nobody deserved death.

They finally got there and Conner went to join them, but Ethan stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong, Ethan? Come on!" Alana yelled at him, tugging at his arm.

"Look," he said, gesturing to the end of the room.

Voldemort's stare was so deadly it filled Alana's head with thoughts of hopelessness and defeat. When she looked at it, she felt sure they would never escape. In fact, why try? They were dead anyway... No.

She pushed the thoughts away. She couldn't allow Voldemort to distract her NOW, so close to the end. The Dark Lord made his way slowly through the crowd of running Death Eaters, like he had all the time in the world. At least his evil smile was gone, replaced by a look of complete hatred and anger.

"Ignore him," Alana said. "Come on!"

She turned and ran, the other two following. They raced past the door into the hall, past the living room. They Stunned and Petrified a couple of Death Eaters, then finally reached the main entrance. It opened to an eerie courtyard bathed in fog, but it was clear enough to see the huge metal gate at the other end. Alana looked to either side to her friends' faces, the bubble of joy that had been forming in her chest threatening to burst.

Then she made the mistake of looking back.

Voldemort raised his wand as he bellowed, "You're not getting away!"

A rope shot out from the tip of his wand and snaked itself toward them. Alana was momentarily shocked, but she reacted eventually. She turned and ran after the boys, who were yelling, "Al, come on!"

She caught up with them quickly. The gate was maybe thirty feet ahead when the rope multiplied and curled itself around each of their ankles.

They stumbled face-first on to the stone as the ropes swirled upwards, around their knees, then their waist, threatening to reach their arms soon. Alana tried to get her wand, but the bonds were already at her elbows.

Luckily, Ethan had reached his in time. He pressed his wand against the thick rope and said "INCENDIO!" The rope slowly darkened on the spot where the wand was pressed, until it finally gave in to the heat and broke. The rest of the rope retreated, leaving the three of them free.

They stood as fast as they could and kept running. Alana could hear Death Eaters gathering. The gate was only twenty feet away now, but then Voldemort's next trick came.

Alana ran, only fifteen feet away from freedom, when she suddenly felt it a little more difficult to take each step. It gradually became worse, as though her feet were going in slow motion. It felt exactly like what she imagined would be trying to run across a pool of gelatin. She looked down and saw a blue glow around her feet, coming up very rapidly, until she was barely moving at all, glowing from head to toe. She managed to look aside to see both boys in the same state.

_Great_, she thought. _Now we should be there in just about an hour._

She concentrated, but the curse seemed to be slowing down her mind and her thoughts as well as her body. Her hand moved with a frustrating lack of speed in a swing, and she tried to say the incantation "_Finite Incatatem_". It was miserably incomprehensible, but apparently the wand understood, because Alana felt the curse melt around her. The guys were free, too. They continued to run, even though their legs already ached painfully because of the lack of exercise.

Sadly, the curse had given Voldemort time to reach them. At only five feet away from the gate, he managed to grab Alana's shirt and pull her back. His wand morphed into a dagger, which he pressed to Alana's throat.

"Go!" she yelled. "Ethan, take Conner and Apparate the hell out of here!"

Ethan turned, a horrified expression on his face. "No!" he yelled. "Let her go! I'm not losing you again!"

Alana gasped for breath. She hadn't thought she would have to put up the whole IM-BRAVE-AND-I DON'T-CARE-WHAT-YOU-DO act up again, but she tried.

She smiled. "Here again, are we?" she croaked. "Whoa, _déjà vu_! You know, you still can't kill me," she said between breaths. "You still need me."

Voldemort took a moment to respond, as though considering. Then he said, "Clever girl. You are right. I still need you alive. But not _him_."

Alana's heart sank. "E-Ethan?" she stammered. She looked at Ethan in the eyes, but he shook his head. Why? "But he also knows—" A moment before it happened, Alana realised she was wrong. Voldemort didn't mean Ethan. He meant—

"No!" she tried to scream. Voldemort raised the dagger and pushed Alana away, stretching his arm out towards Conner, even though the guy was about ten feet from him. The Dark Lord twisted his arm and closed his fist, then pulled his arm back. Conner gasped and suddenly slid towards at an alarming speed towards Voldemort, who grabbed him and put the knife to his throat.

"Conner!" Alana yelled weakly. Her voice was barely audible.

"NO!" shouted Ethan.

Voldemort laughed. The sound sent a chill down Alana's spine. "His death will not make any difference to me," he said coldly. "So, when you may attempt to leave. But I will kill he Muggle."

Alana looked at Ethan. She obviously wasn't letting Conner die, but she was _not_ about to willingly go back into their imprisonment either.

"A-Al, Ethan," said Conner, struggling. Voldemort had pressed the flat of his blade at Conner's throat so that he was choking. "Go! You have to g-get out. I—" he clawed at his neck, his face turning red.

"No!" Alana screamed again. She had to do something. "Wait! If I go with you, if I stay here, you'll let him go?"

"Of course," said Voldemort. "I always keep my word, Sages."

"Al, d-don't!" Conner croaked. His voice was already changing to a breathless whisper. "J-just... just go..."

"No!" said Alana. "Voldemort, let him go and we'll work something out!" The moment the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was a very stupid suggestion.

"_Work something out_?" Voldemort asked, his tone amused. "No, Sages. I want your word that you will never try to escape again, and then I will release your little boyfriend."

Alana blinked back tears. "I can't give you that," she said.

She lowered her head for a moment, and then forced herself to look at Conner. His expression spoke for him. He was trying to hide his fear, but he truly wanted Alana and Ethan to go. Voldemort looked a bit surprised, but another emotion tugged at his face— triumph? Satisfaction?

"Well," he said. "Would you look at that! Putting yourself before your loved one. Perhaps you _are_ beginning to think more like one of us."

"But I can't give you Conner, either."

Conner was about to pass out. He was almost out of breath now. _Don't beg…_ she told herself. _Don't say please…_ Maybe it was selfish of her to put her dignity and pride before Conner, but she'd made a promise to herself, and braking it was going to be the last resort, on the worst-case scenario. The question was, was this it?

"What are you planning to do?" said Voldemort, laughing. Some Death Eaters behind him laughed as well. Alana had almost forgotten they'd been there this whole time.

She risked a glance at Ethan. Trying to talk with her eyes, she asked, _Have a plan?_ Ethan's look of alarm told her he didn't.

"I'm planning on saving Conner," she said. "Let— him— go." She raised her wand, her hand trembling.

"Not until you swear not to leave," said Voldemort. "I swear not to kill this boy if you agree. As for you, Almery, you're coming into the cellar, too. Sages, you'd be foolish not to agree. And don't try to go after you've said yes. Words are a very strong force of magic. Even when you don't mean to, you're bound to your word after swearing something. And I always keep my word."

Voldemort laughed. His dagger turned back into a wand, and Conner's unconscious body crumpled to the ground. Alana pointed her wand at him and said, "_Protego_." A shimmering blue force field surrounded him. Voldemort was too full of himself: he was sure Alana would agree. In desperation, she glanced at the only person she thought could help.

She gave Caira a pleading look, almost saying 'please'. The young woman winced and took a step forward. For a moment, Alana's heart filled with hope. But then Caira glanced at Voldemort, and what showed in her eyes was not inferiority or even respect; it was fear. She looked at Alana, her expression shameful, and shook her head. It was almost an apologetic face. She wanted to, but she would not help them.

Alana felt disappointed and angry. Now they just needed a distraction…

"But I won't," said Alana. She smiled. Voldemort's smile disappeared. The Death Eaters looked outraged. Ethan grinned. Alana glared at him, asking for help. This wasn't over yet.

Ethan got the message. His eyes lit up like every time he had an idea. He pointed his wand at the floor and mouthed, _Boom_. Alana, realising his plan, created another force field around herself.

Ethan yelled "_CONFRINGO!"_ and there was a giant explosion, just the random distraction they needed. It wasn't enough to hold Voldemort back, but enough to confuse him. _Confusion_.

An idea struck Alana's head as quickly as a lightning bolt. "_Confundo_!" she yelled.

Alana ran to grab Conner, then shot to the gate. She would've been there in a second if she hadn't had to drag Conner all the way. Ethan reached them, covered in ash, and took Conner's feet as they carried him to the gate. Once there, Ethan held him up by the arms while Alana took out her wand and said the second spell she'd ever learned: "_Alohamora_." Nothing happened.

"Damn it!" yelled Ethan. "I think it's one of those enchanted ones. It can only be opened by someone with the Dark Mark!"

"No problem," said Alana. There was a Death Eater running toward her at a very, very fast speed. Alana took a moment to calculate. Then, just as the man was about to pin her down, she stepped aside like bull fighter and let him keep going. He was too late to stop: he crashed into the gates with such force, they swung open on the impact.

Alana turned to her friends, a smile on her face. Conner was waking and trying to get up even though he was a little dizzy.

"Take it easy, mate," said Ethan.

Alana laughed and grabbed Conner's hand, then ran past the gates. Ethan was right next to them. They were officially out of Malfoy Manor. They were not in Voldemort's territory. They were in Apparation range.

The ash from the explosion was clearing, and Alana could make out Voldemort's scarlet eyes glaring at them in pure hatred. He was probably trying to get past the gates to Apparate next to them, she guessed, but the Death Eaters had gone nuts and were in his way. They yelled in panic and confusion, running around shooting spells at each other.

"Where to?" said Ethan.

As a response, Alana put her arm around him and waved her wand. She had no idea of where to go. There was some twisting and turning, and suddenly the world became clear again. She didn't know where they had ended up, but she was only thinking of one thing: they were free.


	14. Good-byes

**Finally, here is Chapter 14! Again, sorry for the wait, but you have to understand that I had a bit of writer's block at one point. But now I started to write at a faster pace, and I promise Chapter 15 will be up in two weeks MAX. Please take a minute to review and tell me what you think!**

**Remember, this takes place right after the trio Apparates out of Malfoy Manor.**

**Enjoy!**

Alana gasped. She almost fell to her knees in a mix of joy, triumph and exhaustion. She felt so dizzy and overwhelmed she had to support herself on Conner, who was beaming at her.

They all began to laugh. Alana thought she knew happiness, but this was different. This was so huge, she was sure she'd never been happier in her entire life, and almost certain that she'd never experience a feeling like this again.

They laughed for such a long time that she forgot to check where they were. When she'd Apparated out of Malfoy Manor, she hadn't been thinking of any specific place. Nor had she really cared. She'd only had time to think: _Anywhere but here, Anywhere safe_. The only thing that mattered was that Voldemort was not there.

As she wiped some tears from her face, she looked around them. She squinted in the bright sunlight. All she could see for several miles behind them were hills, one of which they stood on. In front of them, there was a small flat area with a tall, battered-up house in the middle. Alana sighed. She was in the best place they could be at the moment.

"Where are we?" said Conner. Alana and Ethan exchanged an excited glance.

"The Burrow," Ethan answered. "Home of the Weasleys."

"The Weasleys..." Conner winced in thought. "Don't tell me... Oh, that family with red hair and, like, a thousand kids?"

Alana snorted. Ethan tried not to laugh. "Close enough," he said.

"Come on," said Alana. "This is our closest thing to home."

"We can't go back to Blue Woods, right?" said Conner. "They'll track us down and hurt our families."

Alana noticed he said 'us' instead of 'you'. He was officially part of this now.

"Nope," she said. "No going back. But this place... We'll be safe here. Trust me."

"What if they don't take us in?" asked Conner. "I mean, who'd like three dirty teenagers who haven't taken a shower in months?"

"Family," said Ethan.

The three of them headed downhill.

When they were close to the door, Alana took a deep breath.

"Man," she said. "I can't wait to sleep on a real bed."

"To eat real food," said Conner.

"To use a real toilet," sighed Ethan.

Alana and Conner stared at him.

"What?" he said defensively. "I was getting really tired of going in that little _ in the back of the cellar."

Conner laughed and stepped forward. He looked back with a doubtful expression, but Alana gestured for him to go on. He knocked. The only sounds that they could hear— a few people talking— faded. Someone went _Sssshhhh_, and then a shaky but firm voice said, "Who— who's there? I demand to know this second!"

Alana smiled. She knew that voice too well. "Mrs. Weasley?" she called. "It's us, Ethan and Alana!"

"Alana? Ethan?" Mrs Weasley looked out the window. The short redheaded woman was wearing her usual cooking apron and was holding her wand in one hand and a raised frying pan in he other. When she saw them, her eyes widened. "Oh, goodness, it _is_ you!" she exclaimed.

The clicking of many, many locks followed, then the door swung open. Molly Weasley grabbed Alana and Ethan in a tight hug. When she finally let go, she started to say, "Oh, everyone's been so worr—"

She noticed Conner, who was standing back. Molly raised the frying pan again, and his eyes widened. He started to take a step back.

"Who are _you_?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. She turned to Ethan and Alana. "Is he a Death Eater? Did he trap you? Is he—"

"He's a friend, Mrs. Weasley," said Ethan. "There's no need to flatten his head."

"Oh." Mrs. Weasley's murderous expression changed completely, just like that, turning into a kind smile. "Well, then, come in, come in! Why, you're all filthy! Tell me what's happened to you— but right after you take a shower. Are you hungry? Because I'll make you something quickly, not to worry! Now, come in!"

She urged them in. Inside, the Metamorphagus Auror Tonks was sitting in the living room, waiting for Mrs. Weasley to come back. When she saw Alana and Ethan, she jumped to her feet.

"Al! Ethan!" said Tonks. She rushed to hug them, then looked at Conner quizzically. "Um, who's—"

"He's a friend of theirs, Tonks, be kind," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Where were you guys?" said Tonks, her hair turning dark purple. "We were so worried!"

"You were?" said Alana.

"Of course!" said Mrs. Weasley. "I mean, you didn't answer any owls, you didn't come to the wedding— Hermione even tried one of those Muggle devices, a jellybone—"

"You mean a telephone?" asked Conner.

"Yes, yes, that's what I said!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"Where were you all this time?" said Tonks.

"Oh, Nyphadora, give them a break!" snapped Mrs. Weasley. "You'll want to take a shower, I suppose. Well, Alana, you can take the bathroom in the second floor and borrow some of clothes of Hermione's or Ginny's. Ethan, there's a shower in Charlie's old room, you can go there and you, dear..." she said, addressing Conner. "...There's a bathroom in the attic, if you don't mind the ghoul."

"The what?" said Conner, but Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to hear him.

Suddenly it dawned on Alana that his house always held much more than two people. "Hold on. Where are the others?"

"Arthur's at work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Fred and George left to their silly shop, even of I told them that they shouldn't, but of course they wouldn't listen. Bill and Fleur have left for their new home, though Bill's still calling everyone who came to yesterday's wedding to see if they're alright, and—"

"The wedding... we missed it. It happened as we escaped," said Alana.

"Oh, I'm afraid you did, but—" Mrs. Weasley stopped. "Escaped from what?"

"Later. You were saying?" said Ethan.

Mrs. Weasley looked at them suspiciously, then went on, "And Charlie... He had to leave to tend some dragons. Death Eaters are _everywhere_ these days, and apparently they attacked Charlie's headquarters. And Harry, Ron and Hermione..." Mrs. Weasley's expression turned even more suspicious. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Alana tried to seem surprised. "Why would we know? We've been completely out of touch the last couple of months."

"Hm... Well, then, I don't know where they are."

"Would you like me to go and fetch the boys something to wear from Ron's room, Molly?" Tonks offered, obviously urgent to change the subject.

"Oh, yes, please," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully. Alana tried not to laugh at her mood swings. "I'd do it myself, but I have to cook!"

Ethan patted his stomach and licked his lips. "Just wait until you taste Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart, Conner."

"Oh, stop it," said Mrs. Weasley, blushing. "Now off with you! Go clean up!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After taking a shower, Alana felt so refreshed and so much better that she felt like she'd just woken up from a very long, very vivid nightmare. She was pretty sure she had rubbed off a couple of layers of skin along with the grime. Her hair was brushed and pulled back in a bandana, finally free of dust and dirt. She was wearing one of Ginny's strapless dresses and sandals. She'd brushed her teeth, clipped her nails and bandaged several cuts and scrapes, so that the only thing missing was food.

As she descended the stairs, Alana's mouth was already watering, for she could smell Mrs. Weasley's cooking. When she reached the dining room, Conner was sitting there in Ron's favourite T-shirt and some workout pants. An awkward silence reigned the room, since Conner didn't know anyone in it.

"So," said Alana. "That smells good."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling.

"Alana," said Tonks. "I know you're tired and probably don't want to talk about it, but could you please tell us what happened? We just want to know—"

"We were prisoners in Malfoy Manor for two months."

Every pair of eyes turned to Conner. Alana couldn't believe he'd said that so quickly to people he barley knew.

Every expression in the room turned to horror.

"What?" said Mrs. Weasley. "But— but then... how?..." She seemed to be at a loss for words.

"But... why? As bait or something?" asked Tonks.

"Um..." Alana swallowed. She knew she could trust these people, but she wasn't about to give them another reason to worry, another person to protect, another purpose for Voldemort to want them in his grasp.

Suddenly Ethan was at her side, wearing a T-shirt and cargo pants. "They had some silly idea," he said. "For some reason, they thought we knew the future."

"Yeah," said Alana, playing along. She made a mental note to thank Ethan later. "They..." She winced. "They tortured us."

"Alana, Ethan," said Tonks darkly. "Conner, was it? Tell me the truth about this: What curses did they use?"

A three of them winced this time. Ethan and Alana dropped into a couple of chairs next to Tonks. "They..." Alana closed her eyes. Just saying the curse hurt. "They— _he_— He used the Cruciatus Curse."

There was a collective gasp in the room, and then Tonks turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly," she said. "Right after they eat, we have to get these guys to St. Mungo's." She turned back to he trio. "Any other curses?"

"Well, yeah, but we didn't know half of them," said Ethan.

"And, besides, I— I was only half-conscious when he..." Alana struggled to finish the thought. "...when he tortured me, after a while, I just _felt_ the pain, but I couldn't even hear what he was saying..."

Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth. "Oh, dear," she said, shaking her head. "That horrible, bloody—"

"Guys," Tonks interrupted. "I know it's hard, but we need to know exactly what happened."

They nodded. The three of them told Tonks and Mrs. Weasley everything, only changing the fact that they _did_ know the future. As they spoke, Mrs. Weasley served bagels, scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, sausage, potatoes, ham, juice, coffee, hot cocoa, and many other things. Alana's stomach grumbled at the sight, and she had to make an effort not to start eating like an animal.

They kept talking between bites, until Mrs. Wesley said, "For the goblins' sake, Tonks, let them eat!"

"That's alright," said Conner. "We're nearly finished with the story anyway."

Alana swallowed some eggs and leaned back. "And with the food," she said. They'd kept eating, trying to compensate for all that time eating nothing but tiny loaves of bread and the wings of very skinny chickens. "Can't— eat—another—bite."

"Yeah," said Ethan. "I think my stomach is going to burst."

"Well, get in the car," said Tonks. "We're taking you lot to St. Mungo's."

Conner gripped the sides of his chair tightly. "Where are you taking us?" he asked nervously.

Ginny laughed. "It's just the wizard hospital, Conner. There's no need to be nervous."

Conner raised an eyebrow. "Okay, first of all: I wasn't nervous. Just curious. Second of all: Your hospital is called St. Mango?"

Alana beamed. "Mungo's," she corrected. "But... Tonks, do we really have to—"

"You should get a quick check-up," said Tonks. "Just to see if there are any after effects of the curses, and maybe see if we can identify them."

Ethan groaned. "Seriously, Tonks, we're really tired! Pleeeeeease?"

"Guys, I know you're tired, but—"

"But when was the last time _you_ were Voldemort's prisoner, huh?"

Alana didn't know why she'd said that, and felt guilty immediately. "I'm sorry, Tonks, it's just—"

"For goodness sake's, Nyphadora! I'm sure in can wait until tomorrow!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, giving Alana, Ethan and Conner a sympathetic look.

Tonks sighed, obviously defeated. "I suppose... Then we'll go tomorrow. And _DON'T—CALL ME— NYPHADORA."___

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Alana slid between the sheets of her bed, she couldn't help smiling to herself. She'd almost forgotten how it felt like sleeping on a warm mattress instead of cold stone. She imagined that Ethan and Conner, who were sleeping in Fred and George's room, were thinking the same thing.

Lying there in Ginny's bed, looking at the ceiling, there were so many things she could have thought, so many worries to think through, so many nightmares that could have occurred to her. Yet, instead, Alana let her mind go blank not think at all so that, for the first time in months, she relaxed.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but when eyes slowly opened, she allowed herself about half an hour of that blissful intermediate where one is not fully awake nor fully asleep. Then she looked at the clock on Ginny's bedside table and noticed that the clock informed that it was currently noon. 

She shot upright, threw on the dress she'd been wearing the day before, brushed her teeth and ran downstairs. She could already smell breakfast.

"Morning, Al," said Conner. He said only that, it his face exclaimed _Thank you for saving me from spending even more awkward time alone with these very nice people whom I don't know in the slightest! _

__"Man, that smells good," Alana sighed as she sat down. Her plate was already served. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

Suddenly they heard footsteps, and everyone turned to see Ethan descending down the stairs, with his shirt inside out, his hair ruffled up and looking like a zombie that had just been raised from its tomb.

"Morning," he yawned, stretching. He collapsed onto one of the chairs at the dining table and took a deep breath. "Oh, that smells good."

Alana couldn't help laughing. They ate for a while, making small talk between bites. Then there was a knock at the door. Alana glanced at it, not giving it much importance— until she saw that Mrs. Weasely had tensed up and raised her cooking pan again.

"Who— Who's there?" she asked shakily.

"Molly, it's me, Tonks."

"Prove it! What flavour was the cake at my eldest son's wedding?"

"Molly, there _was_ no cake. The Death Eaters interrupted our party before anyone got the chance to try the cake. How the bloody hell am _I _supposed to know?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. She opened the door and dragged Tonks in, then slammed it shut and locked it.

"Morning, guys," said Tonks. She gestured to the plates of food. "Finish up quickly," she said. "We're off to St. Mungo's soon."

"Don't you want anything to eat, dear?" began Mrs. Weasley.

While the two women started their usual argument (with lots of _buts_ from Mrs. Weasley), Alana gulped down the rest of her breakfast. She didn't want to, but she knew she had to do something: her conscience was waking up, saying_ Hello? You're in the middle of a massive war here, you just escaped from the most evil being in the whole world, and all you've been thinking about for the last few hours is food?__  
><em>  
>Yet part of her responded, <em>Yeah! I was captive for a couple of months, is it really so bad to enjoy myself for two seconds? It's not like the Death Eaters would be looking for us night and day, torturing anyone who knew to find us!<em>

_Oh, wait…_

Alana sighed heavily. She remembered what was happening and knew that she had to force her brain to go back into thinking mode. She went over the list of things that worried her in her head, crossing out and adding possibilities of solutions. Suddenly a thought struck her as quickly and as sharply as lighting. She gasped.

"Al?" asked Ethan. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head. "It's... It's nothing. Um.. Conner?"

"Mmm–hmph?" Conner said while he sipped some hot chocolate.

"Can I have a word with you... In private?"

He looked a little surprised. "Oh... Um, sure."

Ethan looked a bit offended, but Alana avoid his eyes. He'd understand later on.

She and Conner went upstairs. They stood in the narrow, cramped hall as Conner dug his hands into his pockets and said, "What's up, Al? Everything okay?"

Alana took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ear. "You have to go back home," she said.

Conner was obviously shocked. "Wha—What do you mean?"

"Conns, you know you can't stay here."

"Why don't you want me to—?"

"Of course I _want_ you with us, but you... You just can't!"

"Why not?" Conner whispered. He didn't sound angry or offended— Alana couldn't really find a word for it at the moment.

"Conner, you know perfectly well why," Alana whispered back.

"I'd be bloody mad to do that. You seriously think that I'd leave you guys after what I've seen?" he said.

"Yes! Exactly! You've seen what these people are capable of! If you stayed, and they used that wretched curse on you again... Conns, I saw them torture you. I won't be able to stand that a second time." Alana felt that funny feeling in her eyes, and she knew that, even though she hated it, she was about to cry.

"Al," said Conner gently, yet sharply. "I've seem them do worse things to you. I want to be there with you. I can't leave you and Ethan alone, not after all we've been through! I mean, these people are not only crazy maniacs, they have _magic_, too!"

"My point exactly. So do we. But you don't. Conner, in a few months we'll be fighting in a big battle— much worse than what we had yesterday. It would be suicide to go with us," Alana urged.

"Al, listen to yourself. You want me to leave you and Ethan at the hands of the darkest wizard in—"

"Conner— No, Conner— Now you listen," Alana interrupted, taking his hands. "You have no way to defend yourself, how are _you_ supposed to protect _us_? They know you're a Muggle, they'll have you as a target. And even worse, I was stupid enough to let them know that I care so much about you! Put yourself in my position, Conns, okay?

"Alana—"

"Close your eyes and switch places with me. You're being captured in the middle of a war— a _wizard_ war— and you're being tortured by the most powerful wizard in history. Then, out of nowhere, Ethan and me show up and get thrown into a cell with you. You almost die, but you don't, and in the process I confess my love to you. Then, as we're escaping, the wizard who captured us tortures me, and you have to watch me suffer while he does it because you're being held up by—"

Her voice had ready begun to crack. She cursed in her mind as her eyes watered and a few tears slid down her cheek. She hated crying, especially in front of boys. She rarely did. Her only exceptions were being tortured by the Dark Lord, almost dying, talking about those previous two, and when she cried out of happiness.

Everyone said, _It's okay to cry_. She knew it was true, but, nevertheless, she felt stupid doing it. She looked at Conner in the eyes, trying to look determined. He sighed, because he knew that look. Once Alana got determined about something, nothing and nobody could stop her.

"Al... Please," Conner said softly, pushing a strand of loose hair behind Alana's ear.

"You have to," she whispered. Then she hugged him and said, "For me. Do you think I could live knowing something happened to you because of us?"

He hugged her tightly, and then broke apart. Alana had not been prepared for what she saw next: Conner had tears in his eyes, too.

Now, the _It's okay to cry_ thing really made sense to her, because boys... Well, some of them think they have to be all macho sometimes, and crying is a huge no-no. But here was Conner, a guy whom Alana had seen been hit in fights and never even let out a single tear, crying for _her_ and for Ethan.

So they stood there, holding hands quietly, silently understanding each other. Alana understood Conner's point of view, and he, in turn, understood hers. But they both knew what had to happen.

They went downstairs, where Ethan was sitting with crossed arms and tapping his foot.

"So?" he demanded.

"Ethan—"

"Talk in the car," said Tonks, pointing at the old vehicle that could be seen through the window. "We're headed to St. Mungo's."

"Actually, Tonks," Alana said in a weak voice. She exhaled heavily. "We have to make a quick stop before we go there."

Tonks, who had been halfway through the door, turned and said, "What? Why? Where?"

Alana looked at Conner, who nodded. Ethan took notice of this and suddenly understood the plan. He caught his breath and carefully said, "Conner... Are you— are you okay, mate?"

Conner nodded reluctantly.

"Blue Woods Valley, Tonks," said Alana.

"Yep," said Conner grimly. "I'm going home."

As they climbed into the Ford Anglia, Alana looked around at her friends' grim faces and thought how awful Conner must have felt being sent away like that, after coming after Alana and tried to save her. Still, she knew he understood.

Yet even in that sad mood they found themselves, Conner's face was still pricelessly hilarious when the car took off into the sky and he yelled, "_YOU HAVE A FLYING CAR_?!"  
><em>One last laugh before good-bye<em>, Alana thought miserably.

The three of them sat in the back, Tonks drove and Mrs. Weasley sat next to her, looking a bit green.

"I hate this flying thing, I've told Arthur to disable it a million times..." she muttered to herself.

They flew in silence, looking out the windows. Suddenly, after about forty minutes, Alana felt a horrible pang. Her watered eyes looked down on Blue Woods Valley from her car window, her whole being longing to jump out and stay there happily forever and forget everything about Voldemort, but she knew she couldn't.

"Here," said Ethan. Alana turned and saw that he, too, was looking out his window, his eyes full of misery, because he also knew that he wouldn't be going back just yet. Conner, who sat in the middle, was leaning over Ethan, trying to catch a glimpse of home.

The car descended right in front of the main gate. Past it, the park and the houses could be seen, and the security guard's little house, where Officer O'Riley sat, deeply asleep.

It was too overwhelming. After being kidnapped and tortured, she was finally home, but she couldn't stay. She couldn't put her family in danger of being used as bait.

"Well..." said Conner. "Guys, are you sure—"

"I'm sorry," said Alana, hugging Conner. Then she looked into his eyes and kissed him. She wanted to make the kiss worth it because, even though she didn't say so, she couldn't be sure that they would ever kiss again.

Finally, Ethan cleared his throat loudly and they broke apart. Alana stepped back as Ethan approached Conner and said, "Thanks for everything, mate. Really. You're great, we're really going to miss you."

"I'll miss you two, too," said Conner, playfully punching Ethan in the shoulder. "And guys... Please, be careful out there, okay?"

"Oh, you know us," said Alana. "We'll be fine." She shrugged, trying to sound casual, but it didn't work. She was a great liar... when she wanted to lie. But right now, she didn't want to lie or act— she wanted to let Conner know that this was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

"Well... Good-bye, Conns." Her tears flowed down her skin. Her voice was barely audible.

Conner nodded and said, "Goodbye, guys." He stood there for a moment, uncertain of what to do. Then he turned and climbed over the gate, then headed down the street. He knocked on the door of the house next to Ethan's and, right before the door opened and his mother pulled him inside, he shared one last glance with Alana. He looked into her eyes and nodded again, reassuring her that everything would be okay. Then he disappeared into house number forty of the Blue Woods Valley neighbourhood.

Alana let out a single sob, them wiped the tears from her face. She looked at Ethan and said, "Why can't we just stay here? At the park? Just you and me, like old times. No magic, no You-Know-Who... Just us."

"Yeah, I think I liked it better when it was just a dream," said Ethan. His gaze was lost on something far away, and it took Alana a moment to figure out what it was.

House thirty-nine. _His_ house.

On a sudden impulse, Alana squeezed between the metal bars of the gate. Ethan yelled, "Al! What are you doing?" He jumped over it just like Conner had and followed her. Tonks honked from the car.

Alana ran down the street until she was standing in front of house twenty-five. _Her_ house. Ethan caught up, panting, and rested his hands on his knees. "Al, are you crazy? You said it yourself, we can't stay!"

"I... I know, but, couldn't we at least explain to them why we're gone? They'll be going mad and if... of we don't come back... Ethan, this is our only chance to say good-bye," Alana whispered. Without waiting for a response, she walked over to the doorstep and raised her hand to knock.

"Al..." Ethan seemed at a loss for words. "You know our families. Once we tell them, they won't let us go."

She hesitated as her fist shook above the surface of the wooden door. She took a shaky breath and turned. "Then promise me something," she told Ethan. "Promise me that we _will_ come back."

Now, in a movie, Ethan's character would have probably said, "Yes, Al, we will. I promise," and some slow, happy music would have played. But there, in real life, Ethan did the right thing.

"I can't make a promise I can't keep, Al."

Alana knew he was right. "Then we'll try. You're right… They won't let us leave. Let's go."

Back in the car, flying over her home, Ethan said, "Well, Al… It's just you and me. Like old times."

Alana nodded. She agreed: She had liked it better when it was all just a dream. And then, watching her home disappear beneath the clouds, she wondered if she would ever see it again.


	15. Back Into Action

AEK15

Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, Ethan and Alana got to St. Mungo's pretty quickly. Tonks stepped forward to the main counter and said, "Good morning, I'd like to get a Healer as soon as possible. We have to check out these two." She pointed at Ethan and Alana.

"Of course, miss," responded a young blonde woman with green eyes that sat behind the counter. Her voice was a bit high, almost squeaky, and she spoke in a grim, formal tone. "What do you need? Exactly what happened?"

"Captives," said Tonks. "They were prisoner's of You-Know-Who."

The woman, who had not taken her eyes off the files she'd been searching, looked up at Alana and Ethan at the mention if You-Know-Who.

"Then you must come right in," she said. She stepped out from behind the counter and gestured for them to follow her. She lead them through a hallway, then turned, then another, and so on.

"How come it's so empty?" Alana whispered to Tonks. There was barely anyone here. Apart from a few doctors that had been walking around and maybe five patients in total, they had not come by anybody.

"People are afraid to even step out of the house," Tonks whispered back.

"But we're in the middle of a war! Shouldn't there be more people like... like us?"

"Alana, you're smart and very, very lucky," Tonks said, facing Alana. "It's basically a miracle that you got away. But in this war... Well, let's just say that the prisoners taken by the Dark Side usually don't come back."

Then Tonks sighed and continued down the hallway.

Alana followed, but now her mind was focused on a question. She jogged up to Tonks and whispered, "If prisoners don't come back... How did we?"

"Well, it's been done before," she said. "Harry has gotten out of a quite a few sticky situations in the past, remember?"

"Of course," said Alana. "But Harry's... Harry."

"And you're Alana and Ethan," said Tonks with a friendly wink. "Hey, just because Harry's the Chosen One doesn't mean the rest of us can't be as good as him. The only thing that makes him different is that he's had rotten luck, and a prophecy says that he's the only one that can use that good to finally destroy You-Know-Who. But that doesn't mean he doesn't need help."

Just then, the lady that had been guiding them said, "Right here, into this room. A Healer will come in a couple if minutes for a quick examination. Then we will proceed to ask a few questions. Come in, please." She opened the door right next to where they were standing and gestured for them to enter.

They stepped into a wide, completely white room. A long leather couch sat in one corner, and the Healer's desk lay by another. There was a chair to sit down in for examination, Alana guessed, in the middle of the room. But the most amazing thing was not that.

Next to the huge chair, there stood a little cart with a blue-coloured binder. Alana couldn't even begin to imagine how many spells and antidotes were written on it. And, beside the binder, there lay who knew how many tiny trinkets and tools, probably all of them magical. If it hadn't been for the moving portrait at the back of the room and the framed certificates that said _Healer of the Month_ and _WINNER OF THE 1920 GILLINGTON AWARD FOR MARINE HERBOLOGY_, she could have said it resembled a normal dentist's office almost perfectly.

The woman that had been guiding them left, so Mrs. Weasley and Ethan sat down on the sofa. Tonks was tapping her foot impatiently for a while, until Mrs. Weasley said, "Nyphadora, would you _please _stop that! You're making me nervous!"

Just then, the door opened and a man in a green coat stepped into the room. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes and pale skin. His beard was trimmed nicely. The clipboard that he held in his hands was apparently important, because his eyes went over the words in the paper a few times before he finally said, "Hello. I'm Mr. Peterson." He outstretched his hand toward Tonks, who shook it with a serious look on her face and tried to jerked hers back quickly. "Tonks," she said simply.

The Healer's eyes widened. "The Auror?"

Tonks looked surprised, but she said, "Um... Yeah."

"Then let me just say, half of the people that come here these days are only alive because of you and your team," Mr. Peterson said. "It's just _great_ to have you here!"

Something about the man rang a bell in Alana's mind. He seemed familiar, somehow, but she couldn't remember from where.

"Hi," Ethan said, getting up. Alana hadn't noticed that he was scanning Mr. Peterson with a concentrated look on his face, so she assumed that he found Mr. Peterson familiar as well.

"Hello. Oh, you must be the young lad and lass who got yourselves into that horrible mess," said Mr. Peterson. "When You-Know-Who becomes involved, it's very lucky to survive. So, what are your record numbers?"

"We're new to St. Mungo's, actually," said Alana.

Mr. Peterson seemed to think that strange. "You've never come here before? Why?"

"We'd always go to a Muggle hospital," she said. "We're Muggle-borns, you see."

"_Oh._" Mr. Peterson started to write on his clipboard.

"Is that really important?" asked Tonks. "Why does it matter?"

"The examination to see if they're okay consists of checking their responses and reflexes, checking their wands, using Legilimency to see exactly what happened and blood tests," recited Mr. Peterson, as if he'd memorised it straight out of a textbook. "And for the blood samples, we need to know what type of blood they are."

Tonks eyed Mr. Peterson carefully. Then she nodded and said, "Fine. Let's get on with this, please."

"Absolutely!" Mr. Peterson said. "Alright, first I'll need you youngsters separated. I'll take care of Miss...?"

"Sages," Alana said. "Alana Sages." Ethan, for some reason, began a spontaneous coughing fit.

Mr. Peterson's eyes rose from the clipboard as he looked at Alana suddenly. "Alana Sages," he repeated. "What a lovely name." His voice had changed somehow, but Alana couldn't quite identify in what way.

"Well," said Mr. Peterson, as though snapping awake from a trance. "As I was saying, Miss Sages will stay here with me, and you, young man—" he turned to Ethan "—will go to the room next door with my colleague, Ms. Anne Keeler."

"Um, if you don't mind my asking, Dr. Peterson—"

"_Mr_. Peterson. Doctors are Muggles. _I_ am a Healer."

"Alright, _Mr_. Peterson, then," said Alana. "Why must Ethan and I be separated?"

"Well, you may have different answers to our questions because of having slightly different experiences," explained Mr. Peterson. "Surely you understand, it's protocol."

"I really don't think—" Ethan started.

He was cut off by the door opening. A young woman with a ponytail and bronze skin stepped into the room as she said, "Sorry I'm late! Hi, I'm Ms. Keeler."

"Oh," Ethan said. Alana bit back a laugh. She'd seen Ethan's current expression before: It was the same he's had when he had met Hermione. And Ginny. And any other female he found attractive.

"Ethan, right?" Anne Keeler said, looking at the clipboard she held in her hands, which was exactly like Mr. Peterson's. Like his, her eyes shone with a strange restless energy.

"Uh, yeah," Ethan replied.

"Okay, then, come with me," said Ms. Keeler. "You ladies can wait outside with the secretary," she added to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks.

"Actually, we'd rather stay with them," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, don't worry, they're in good hands," Ms. Keeler said.

Tonks began an argument, but, fortunately, it ended within five minutes (which was a very small amount of time, considering that, when Tonks was involved, an argument usually lasted _much_ more than that; Alana knew from personal experience).

"Alright," said Tonks as she and Mrs. Weasley left reluctantly.

"Come with me, Ethan," said Ms. Keeler. Ethan gave Alana an excited thumbs-up. She mouthed, _No chance_ before he followed her out the door, and he mouthed back _I know _before disappearing.

"Great," said Mr. Peterson as he closed the door. "Well, Alana, first I'll be needing your wand."

Alana swallowed. She knew it was stupid, but after struggling so much and even going through a battle to get her wand back, she felt that she had reason to be doubtful about willingly giving it away.

"Don't worry," Mr. Peterson said. "It's just to examine it. You know, to see the most recent spells cast by it... Or _on_ it."

She took her wand out of her coat and slowly handed it to Mr. Peterson.

"There's a good girl," he said. Alana couldn't help but glare in disbelief. Being talked to like a dog was probably one of the Top 5 on her "Things That Will Most Likely Make Me Explode" list.

"Take a seat," Mr. Peterson said, motioning to the white leather couch. Alana sat down uncertainly. "So, Alana, let's start by you telling me _everything_ that happened, _exactly_ how it happened," said the Healer.

"Well..." Alana started. _Okay_, she thought. _You're just a stupid teenager that has no idea why all of this happened_. It was just like acting braver than she was with Voldemort. This was just another role to play.

_SHOWTIME_.

"We were captured by Death Eaters," she said. Her inner voice said, _DUH!_

"Yes, I know, why?" said Mr. Peterson.

"I don't know," Alana said blankly. "I was just taking a walk with Ethan and these Death Eaters show up out of nowhere and just knock us unconscious. Next thing I know, we're locked in a cellar."

"Hmph." Mr. Peterson sighed as he scribbled on his clipboard. "That's odd... Death Eaters usually talk with their victims or torture them before capturing them. You know, to enjoy it," he said. Alana didn't know what freaked her out the most: the memories that sent a chill down her spine with the Healer's description, or the fact that he seemed to be talking more to himself than to her.

"Yeah," Alana muttered. "I _do_ know. But they seemed to be in a hurry. Once they—"

"Miss Sages," Mr. Peterson interrupted. "Where were you taking this walk with Mr. Almery?"

"We…" She hadn't been expecting that question. "In the woods," she decided.

"Yes, but _where_? Near your home, I suppose?" Mr. Peterson continued.

"Well, fairly close, yes, but—"

"And that would be where? What's your address?"

"Why do you need to know that?" Alana snapped.

"For you file here at the hospital, of course," Mr. Peterson said, motioning to his clipboard, where he was writing nonstop. "I need your basic personal information to keep in your record. I'd forgotten to mention it, my bad! Here's an idea," he said. "Let me just ask you for what I need for the file, and then we can continue on what happened with the Dark Lord. First of all, I need your closest family member's names and ages, and by that I mean your parents and siblings."

Alana didn't say a word. She was staring at Mr. Peterson, who went on asking her questions. She went over every word he'd said in her mind, analyzing them carefully as she repeated them in her head. Suddenly, something dawned on her.

"Miss Sages, I'll need to start answering, please. We want to proceed to the examination as quickly as possible. Now, what is your family's—"

"Mr. Peterson?" Alana interrupted.

"Yes, Miss Sages?" Mr. Peterson said in a quite impatient tone.

"Who did you say I was taking a walk with?"

"With Mr. Almery, of course. Ethan," Mr. Peterson said. "Are you feeling okay, Miss Sages?"

"Ethan hasn't told you his surname."

Mr. Peterson looked as though he'd been hit. "In the file—"

"He doesn't have a file here, either. And, Mr. Peterson…" Alana raised her gaze and looked at him in the eye. "I thought only Death Eaters called You-Know-Who the 'Dark Lord'."

Mr. Peterson's friendly smile melted. "I really don't know what you're—"

"You're a Death Eater," Alana said, her voice trembling. "That's why you wanted me to tell you all of that. That's why you seemed so familiar. That's why the hospital is so empty. Nobody makes it out."

Mr. Peterson's lips twisted into an evil grin. "Clever girl," he said, and his voice sounded somehow different.

Alana retreated back against the huge couch, her hands starting to shiver. She was trapped in a hospital, of all places, with a Death Eater. Or maybe, she realised, even two.

"Ms. Keeler—" she started.

"As I said, she is my _colleague_," said Mr. Peterson.

She dropped her dumb-teen cover, just like Mr. Peterson had dropped his nice-Healer one. The only difference was, he was now being himself, but Alana had just replaced her character. She was back to acting like the girl that had spit at Voldemort's feet all that time ago in Malfoy Manor, and was hiding—or, at least, trying to hide—the fear that was forming inside her, the anxiety threatening to take over her.

"Miss Sages, I'm afraid you're at a disadvantage here," Mr. Peterson said calmly. "Your friend is with my colleague, Ms. Keeler, and I have your wand. It's a shame that you figured all of this out before willingly telling me your personal information, but I guess I'll have to make you say it. It'll take a little longer, but you'll tell me nevertheless."

"Oh, so you can go to my home and find everyone I care about?" Alana said. "I don't think so. Besides, if you haven't realised it yet, I survived You-Know-Who's torture. Do you really think yours will be that horrible now?"

Alana swallowed. She knew that the panic she was feeling was preventing her brave-girl act from working this time, and so did Mr. Peterson. She wasn't credible at all this time: her voice trembled and her tone was insecure, unlike the words she spoke. The Death Eater in front of her simply smiled in that terrible, calm, 'I'm just patiently waiting to make you miserable again' way.

"You're not fooling anyone this time, Sages," he said. "Now you're coming with me. And Almery—"

As if on cue, the door opened and Ms. Keeler showed up with Ethan. "He's all fine!" she said almost cheerfully. "There are no lasting effect from the spells, except he might be a little slower because of that slowing curse, but that won't be a problem unless you have plans to run in the next few days. It should wear off by then."

_Actually, running is kind of what we need_, Alana thought. "Ethan—" she warned.

"Now we'll proceed to the part with the questions for the file," Anne Keeler said. "Is that okay with you, Mr. Peters—"

"Al," Ethan said. "Are you okay? You look a bit… pale."

"She knows," Mr. Peterson said, turning to Ms. Keeler.

Ms. Keeler looked from Mr. Peterson, to Alana, to Ethan. When she met her eyes, Alana knew why they'd seemed so strange: they weren't energetic, they were _wild_.

Ethan had only time to say, "Wait, what?" just before Ms. Keeler pushed him against the wall and pressed her wand under his chin. Ethan's eyes were wide with shock for a moment, and then he swore and said, "Not again!"

"Don't!" Alana said firmly. As frightened as she was, she kept her voice steady. "Don't—hurt—him."

"Oh, not to worry, we won't," said Ms. Keeler with a completely different voice. "We just want you to tell us what our master wanted."

"I already told him what he wanted!" Alana yelled. "He was keeping us there for no reason at all, he didn't need us anymore!"

"Lies!" spat Mr. Peterson. "If he had not needed you anymore, then he would've done what he does to everyone when he's through with them: dispose of them. If he did not kill you, then there must be something else he wants from you."

"Now, you'll come with us quietly and cooperatively," Ms. Keeler said. "No fighting."

"What makes you think we'll do that?" Ethan said.

Alana was pretty sure that she knew _exactly_ how the Death Eaters planned to make them do that, even before Mr. Peterson said, "Because if you don't, the Auror and the Weasley get it," and confirmed her suspicions.

Ethan's eyes widened. He looked at Alana with a question in his eyes: _What now?_

With her heart almost beating out of her chest, Alana jumped to her feet and said, "Fine."

"What?" Ethan said, taken aback. "You're not really letting them—"

"The girl is being smart," Mr. Peterson said. "And I'd recommend you do the same if you care even a little about the ladies in the waiting room."

"If you're really too _cowardly_ to face a couple of teenagers without half the training as you in a duel you'll probably win, then…" Alana shrugged.

Ms. Keeler and Mr. Peterson exchanged a glance. "Cowardly?" cried Ms. Keeler indignantly. "How dare you?"

"Well, you must be," Alana said, as though it were an obvious fact. "You took away our wands first so that we couldn't fight against you, so you must have thought we were better than you."

"How stupid!" Mr. Peterson said. "We took away your wands so that you had no chance of escaping, you idiot!"

"Aha!" she snapped. "So you're accepting that you knew that, if we had our wands, we could have beaten you in a duel and escaped?"

"Of course not!" Ms. Keeler said, pushing Ethan away from her. "You could never win a duel against two trained Death Eaters! You are merely children!"

"Then why did you take away our wands?" Ethan insisted, catching onto the plan. "If you're so sure of yourselves, why can't you just face us in a proper duel?"

Ms. Keeler and Mr. Peterson looked at each other again, clearly torn between completing their task and proving their pride.

"Alright," Ms. Keeler said finally. "Come on, Rowle, let's teach these kids a lesson."

"Rowle!" cried Alana. "That's your name! You're one of the men who were there when we were captured!"

"And I'm the one who stopped Mr. Almery from running to that Muggle's aid back in the manor, yes," Mr. Peterson—or Rowle—said.

Ethan automatically put his hand to his neck, where Rowle had head-locked him, preventing him from helping Conner. "You stupid... slimy…little… _bastard_."

"You do know that we're not so stupid," Rowle said. "We know you're trying to trick us into giving you back your wands, but it won't work. We'll simply knock you unconscious and it'll make this whole thing easier for us."

"Fine," Alana said. "We know the odds. If you're taking us, it's not going to be without a fight."

Rowle gave her a crooked smile and tossed her her wand, which he'd put in a glowing glass case when he'd taken it. Ethan's appeared out of thin air in Ms. Keeler's elegant hands, and she gave it to him with a burning look in her eyes.

"You know the protocol, I believe?" Rowle said scornfully. He waited for them to bow.

"We prefer to skip that part," Alana said. "_Stupefy!"_

"_Protego!_"

"_Incendio!_"

"_Aguamenti!_"

"_Sectumsempra!_"

"OW!"

"Ethan!"

"I'm fine, go on."

"_Impedimenta!_"

Spells shot, lights flashed, people yelled. Ethan's left shoulder had started to bleed, but he kept on fighting with no more than a wince. Alana tried to remember spells, and she'd rested a bit, but she was still having a hard time. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she was once again facing curses she'd never even heard before.

"Still so confident, kid?" Rowle growled.

Ethan just shook his head and said, "Man, you guys are stupid," before blasting the door open, pulling Alana by the arm and going through it.

Alana and Ethan burst out of the room and automatically yelled, "TONKS!"

When they got there, Tonks was lying in the waiting room, her leg bleeding. The blond secretary was as still as a stone statue on the floor, and Mrs. Weasley stood over her, saying "Aha! That's what you get for trying to mess with—"

"Guys!" Tonks interrupted. "Go, they're not Healers, they're—"

"Death Eaters, we know," said Ethan, pointing to his injured shoulder.

"Then go, go!" Tonks panted.

"Not so fast!" Ms. Keeler— or whatever her real name was— stood beside Rowle, both of them wearing those wicked grins.

"You're not going anywhere!" Rowle spat.

While Tonks tried some enchantments on her leg, Alana and Ethan kept fighting, this time with the best backup they could've asked for: a very angry (not to mention overprotective) Mrs. Weasley.

"Step back, you son of a Boggart!" she yelled at them.

Ethan looked at Alana with a half-smile, who, even though the situation wasn't the best, couldn't help but smile back as she thought of what Mrs. Weasley would do in the near future.

"I think you'll be the first to go," Ms. Keeler told Mrs. Weasley. "I've always had a thing for your family, you know. So many of you, yet we've never caught even one. "

"And you never will!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. She burst out an encantation at the top of her lungs, and Ms. Keeler's eyes widened. Her skin turned a sickly green and beautiful eyes turned a deeper hazel, until they transformed yellow. She dropped her wand and cried out in pain.

"What have you done?" she shrieked. Rowle looked at the woman beside him in horror, momentarily shocked. Alana and Ethan lost no time: They took the opportunity to blast Rowle in the head, both at the same time, and his limp body flew back and crashed against the wall. He lay there, motionless, until Ethan nodded and they turned their attention back to the screaming Death Eater.

"What is this? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" she cried. Her hair seemed to be retracting into her scalp, and her skin was a very dark shade of green now. It was shining in an odd way, almost… scaly?

"What spell is this, Molly?" Tonks panted from the wall. She was staring at Rowle, who lay next to her, in disgust.

"I learned it long ago," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's supposed to bring out your true self."

Suddenly, Ms. Keeler screamed wildly and miserably. Her eyes were bright yellow. "I will get you for this! You will pay! And your family will, too! A Weasley will die because of this!" Her voice sounded different, but Alana couldn't tell how.

Keeler turned and tried to leap onto Mrs. Weasley, but something held her back: she slipped, because her feet were slimy… and smoking. She tried to scream, but her cry came out as a hiss. She hissed fiercely as her hands began to smoke as well, then her head, until, eventually, her whole boy was producing smoke. Her whole figure appeared to be melting, slowly becoming liquid and dropping. On her final hiss, she opened her mouth, revealing and unnaturally long tongue and sharp fangs.

After a few more seconds, all that was left was a single, long figure slithering and hissing on the floor.

A snake.

Dumbstruck, Mrs. Wealsey stared down at the reptile at her feet. "I did this…" she whispered. She was so shocked that she barely noticed it baring its fangs next to her ankle, ready to strike, until Tonks shouted, "MOLLY!"

She came out of her surprise and pointed her wand at the snake and blasted it. It disappeared, and Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath.

"Let's go," she said firmly. "The snake is in China right now."

"Mrs. Weasley," Alana said. "Can you get Tonks back to the Burrow and cure her leg?"

"Well, of course."

"Then…" Alana and Ethan exchanged a sad look.

"…We're not going with you," Ethan finished for her.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Why?"

"We can't risk putting you in danger again," Alana said. "Please. We could never make it up to you if you got seriously injured… or worse. Please don't make it harder on us."

"But—" Mrs. Weasley started.

"Harry's more important," Ethan said. "I have a feeling he's going to need you really soon. We can take care of ourselves."

"You are not going anywhere!" Mrs. Weasley said. "You can't—"

"Guys," Tonks grunted. "This is ridiculous. You'll get killed if—"

"We're sorry," Alana said. "And if we don't see you again…Thank you. For _everything_."

Ethan nodded and said, "You'll understand later. Thank you. You have no idea how much we care about you guys. It's why we have to go." He slipped his hand into Alana's and waved his wand.

The world blurred before Alana's eyes, and they Apparated.

Where to? I didn't matter right then. Alana didn't open her eyes. She didn't even breathe for a while. As they traveled through thin air, she simply hoped that she would see Tonks and Molly again. But for now, all he could do was what she was doing now: Hold on to Ethan… and keep hoping.


End file.
